Sherlock Holmes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecapitol2013-08-08 07:27 pm
honeyedwords) wrote in thecapitol2013-08-08 07:27 pm
It's probably time for a celebration [OPEN]
Who: The Mentor Sherlock Holmes and you!
What: Moping, skulking, being inadvisably open about detesting the games. Standard Holmes fare.
Where: The District 3 Suites
When: Post-Maximus's victory
Warnings: Substance abuse references. Will add any more that come up if needed.
If nothing else, being in the Capitol for the games has reminded Holmes of why he's spent so much effort trying to avoid having to be in the Capitol for the games. He's a practiced hand at avoiding being wheedled into guest appearances at parties or any other such drivel, but the constant commotion and celebration while he's trying to study the footage from in the arena and work out the subtleties of what's needed and where isn't helpful in the least.
Neither, of course, is the constant, throbbing headache, the sleeplessness, or the gnawing feeling that he knows exactly what would make both of those go away very quickly and how to find it.
Perhaps it wasn't the most elegant of solutions, or the best way to get sponsors, but Holmes had found that the easiest solution to all of these issues had been to confine himself to his quarters for the duration. It had been a pleasant enough reprieve from all the hedonistic wallowing that made up life in the Capitol, but with the games over he supposes he has no excuse any longer, and would prefer to leave his room under his own power instead of being dragged out by peacekeepers under suspicion of conspiracy. So he emerges, looking for all the world like some manner of groggy burrowing animal that did not adequately prepare for hibernation before going under.
What: Moping, skulking, being inadvisably open about detesting the games. Standard Holmes fare.
Where: The District 3 Suites
When: Post-Maximus's victory
Warnings: Substance abuse references. Will add any more that come up if needed.
If nothing else, being in the Capitol for the games has reminded Holmes of why he's spent so much effort trying to avoid having to be in the Capitol for the games. He's a practiced hand at avoiding being wheedled into guest appearances at parties or any other such drivel, but the constant commotion and celebration while he's trying to study the footage from in the arena and work out the subtleties of what's needed and where isn't helpful in the least.
Neither, of course, is the constant, throbbing headache, the sleeplessness, or the gnawing feeling that he knows exactly what would make both of those go away very quickly and how to find it.
Perhaps it wasn't the most elegant of solutions, or the best way to get sponsors, but Holmes had found that the easiest solution to all of these issues had been to confine himself to his quarters for the duration. It had been a pleasant enough reprieve from all the hedonistic wallowing that made up life in the Capitol, but with the games over he supposes he has no excuse any longer, and would prefer to leave his room under his own power instead of being dragged out by peacekeepers under suspicion of conspiracy. So he emerges, looking for all the world like some manner of groggy burrowing animal that did not adequately prepare for hibernation before going under.
no subject
"You look like I feel." Although since waking up here, again, he felt fine and looked it too. But he still remembered being hungry and thirsty and hiding from everyone else most of the time in the arena, but it had been preferable to the alternative.