closed;

[alldeduction]

WHO| Sherlock, Crenteus and introducing John Watson
WHAT| Sherlock gets really fed up, and gets punished for it
WHERE| District 3 Suite, then Crenteus' office, and then in the hall just outside her office
WHEN| A couple days after valentines
WARNINGS| Sherlock being a dick but that's pretty standard

If Valentine's had taught him anything it was that he was utterly and completely tired of this place. The tiny x's that he had drawn to mark every camera in District 3's suites had been bothering him, gloating sullenly, and Sherlock had just about enough of it. In a fit of petulance he woke up in the morning and strode straight to the first camera in his room, glared into it, and then dismantled it.

He proceeded to do so with every camera he got his hands on in the suite.

He was about an hour and a half into this exercise (and 16 cameras down) when he was interrupted, hands freezing in the giant potted plant in the corner as the peacekeepers arrived. He smirked at them, and tossed the remnants of the camera at their feet.

"Took you long enough," He said triumphantly.

Neither of them said anything at all as they grabbed him bodily and dragged him from the suite. Sherlock considered attempting to wrestle from their grip, but in truth he was tired of seeing only the bottom of the totem pole. He wanted to know who was at the top. Or at least who these two particular brutes reported to. So down they dragged him, down down deep into the training center, far below what he had ever traveled down to. His silent sentinels finally came to a stop outside a door and shoved him less than gracefully inside.

He straightened his jacket, narrowed eyes surveying the room.

Comments

[drpsychosomatic]

"Not exactly what I meant," John replied, carefully. "Yes, you can learn about their training and so on, and that's useful. But if dying in the arena is only temporary, doesn't it make sense to try and work out what people are like here, where they're not likely to try murdering us? Strangely enough, being put in a kill or be killed situation makes people act very differently than they would naturally."

[alldeduction]

"Temporary or not I have absolutely no intention of being killed again." There was hard ice laced through his voice - an ice that previous to being thrown into the arena would not have been present otherwise. "Of course they act differently between here and the arena but I'm hardly going to ignore data that could otherwise mean our lives later."

He stepped over, right into John's personal space, baring down on him as he spoke incredibly quickly and in a very low tone. Let the capitol strain their ears - and their microphones - if they wished to understand.

"Just because I came back - just because most of us come back - doesn't mean that we all do. Tributes disappear - die in the arena and never appear in the capitol again. It isn't frequent but it is a risk, and I have absolutely no wish to test that."

[drpsychosomatic]

Ah. Well, that shook things up a little. He nodded, to indicate he'd understood- and also that he'd understood why Sherlock was breathing down his neck.

"I don't have any intention of letting you get killed again either," he said- and he meant it. "So I think we can agree on that."

[alldeduction]

"Either of us," Sherlock corrected sharply. "You have no intention on allowing either of us to be killed, and nor do I."

[drpsychosomatic]

He let his mouth quirk into an amused smile, raising his hands in surrender. The truth was, it was reassuring, hearing that fiercely protective edge to Sherlock's voice- though whether anyone else would hear it the same way he did, he couldn't be sure.

"I don't have any intention of allowing either of us to be killed. Happy?"

[alldeduction]

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, standing straighter and relaxing slightly.

"No," He said flatly, though it was obvious that he considered the matter settled. "Happy is not a descriptor I would use in this place. Satisfied, yes."

He let out a breath, and looked out of his window onto the city. Their prison.

"Dinner?"

[drpsychosomatic]

He grinned widely at that, relaxing visibly. None of this made the slightest bit of sense except Sherlock Holmes, and for now, that was almost enough.

Almost.

"Starving. Don't suppose they have dim sum in this ridiculous dystopian future we've got ourselves into?"

[alldeduction]

"Two places, actually, though some of what they consider 'dim sum' is ridiculous, and only one of them is decent." Sherlock said as he gestured for John to follow him out into the city. "You can tell by the handle on the door..."

[drpsychosomatic]

John shook his head in amused disbelief. Any doubt he might have had about this man being Sherlock had long since evaporated.

"You can not," he laughed. "Not in this place, I don't believe it for a minute."

[alldeduction]

Sherlock Holmes would never admit to himself how much he had missed the man at his side, or indeed how relieved he felt with him here. He was still furious, of course, that they would punish him by punishing John - that he would be responsible for anything that happened to him. But beyond and overarching that fury was a deep relief, and almost a hope. Together, they were invincible.

Or so he believed.

If he would ever admit it to himself in the first place.

"Of course I can," Sherlock said smugly, offering a smirk. "They haven't yet been able to remove grease from food, after all, nor the oils from human fingers--"

[drpsychosomatic]

"Believe it when I see it," John told him firmly, though the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement. "Or taste it, I suppose. Come to think of it, do they have scotch? I feel like I could definitely do with some."

[alldeduction]

"It's a post-apocalyptic future," Sherlock pointed as they made their way to the exit of the training center. "Of course they have every alcoholic beverage known to man. And, of course, an interesting array of tailor made drugs..."

[drpsychosomatic]

"Not sure either of us should be partaking in those", John decided primly, following Sherlock out and taking in his surroundings. "But a pint or two might be in order."