Open, Death

[alldeduction]

Who| Sherlock Open, and Sherlock/Karkat/Cuthbert
What| A chance to chat with Sherlock before he gets himself horribly murdered. Threads already planned will get small set ups below.
Where| candy arena
When| week one
Warnings/Notes| horrible grisly murder and death. sherlock being a prat. the usual.


For Howard and Open:

John's package never came.

Sherlock's mood worsened. He didn't sleep, though he pretended to, and he didn't eat, even after he received food and water from Timaeus. He and Howard set up camp in the mountains and both of them acted like cats - sometimes there, sometimes not, though they checked every so often.

Sherlock had to admit to himself that John was probably dead. If he had made it back to the capitol, there was no way that he wouldn't have sent a package - and the Capitol definitely wasn't holding back packages, or he would never have received one from Timaeus. He was completely furious, though he kept his rage bottled up and blazing behind his eyes. But he'd promised John he'd win. So he would.


For Stephanie:

Night finally fell. Finally. Sherlock had lost track of approximating the time, even knowing that if he had, it would have been impossible. The mind was want to play tricks as it was. By the time night fell, however, he was too restless to sleep, even though the bags were starting to appear under his eyes.

So once he was sure Howard was asleep, he slipped out into the night, to scout.


MURDER: For Karkat and Cuthbert

John was alive. John was alive. The capitol had tried to fool him, tried to break him, but it backfired. Seeing John in the arena relieved him completely, despite how bad the situation was there. It gave Sherlock options.

There was no reason to stay in this hellhole anymore.

Sherlock wanted to laugh, but held it in. There were a few options. One, he could die and end up in the desert. Unfortunate, but at least there he'd be able to make sure John was set up properly, before dying again and getting back to the Capitol. Two, he could die and skip the desert completely, and end up in the Capitol. Then he could immediately start funneling sponsor gifts to John. Three, and the most unfortunate, was that he died and didn't come back. Always a possibility.

So the best way to ensure that was to go out with a bang.

Sherlock made a small package of what remained of his water, food, and fire starting kit, and left it next to Howard. He wasn't too concerned about the boy's welfare - his head wound doing much better - but he made a mental note to ensure him as sponsor gift as well, when he got back to the Capitol. If he got back to the Capitol.

He slipped out again before Howard could wake, and went out searching for his death.

Comments

OPEN

[alldeduction]

HOWARD ( and Eva's Gift)

[alldeduction]

Re: HOWARD ( and Eva's Gift)

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

At Holiday's advice, Howard waits a full day before sleeping. It isn't easy; the head wound makes him tired, and he hadn't properly slept even before the Arena. When he finally does get some rest, it's such bliss that he stays so still for seven hours that he might as well be dead.

The dizziness fades, and eventually he stops vomiting every few hours, but the vision doesn't come back to his right eye and the headache only moves to the front of his skull instead of the side, and blood still sporadically drips from his ear canal and nose. Words and speech still remain difficult.

But he's fit enough to go out and forage, and he returns with six of the small doki-dokis, all dead and dragged on a line. Others tried to swarm his meat, but he's been making a habit of the singing. He hopes the Gamemakers are paying royalties out the ass for "American Idiot" right about now.

"Dinner, Sherlock." He dumps the dead animals near their little firepit.

[alldeduction]

Sherlock doesn't try to keep Howard in the cave, and doesn't explain himself when he leaves, but he keeps coming back. He's not sure exactly why, except that John told him to do it, and if John really was dead--

No. He immediately shut down that train of thought, scowling. No.

He distracted himself by keeping the fire at a steady, even blaze, though he sometimes threw a little sugar in just to watch the flames leap. He looked up when Howard came in, watched as he threw the animals down. Made a slight face, but skewered them with sticks he'd collected earlier and stuck the sticks into the ground, leaning over the flames.

He has absolutely no intention of eating any of it.

"Let me see your head." He asks every time Howard comes back.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard comes over and sits by Sherlock's side obediently, almost trustfully. He doesn't like Sherlock and he doesn't delude himself into thinking Sherlock likes him, but John's specter clearly hangs over them both. If Sherlock were going to kill him, he either would have already or would have to make a drastic personality change.

The wound still oozes whenever the makeshift bandage is removed. It reminds Howard of undercooked steak, or of the doki-dokis in front of them, starting to leak juices in the heat. The little drops make sizzling noises in the fire.

"I really...I really didn't mean it. What I said in the Capitol."

[alldeduction]

Sherlock carefully removes the bandage. They don't really have anything to replace it with, but he sniffs it - no petrification, good - and replaces it.

He doesn't reply immediately to the statement. Part of him is still incredibly angry with Howard for saying it in the first place, but he's not superstitious. He doesn't think that Howard saying it had anything to do with what happened to John - except, perhaps, a testament to the Capitol's cruelty. As if proving to Howard they could make dreams come true.

But Sherlock knows where the real blame lies.

"I know." He says finally, if only to get Howard to shut up about it, if only to assuage John (perhaps the Capitol won't let the tributes send gifts? perhaps they want him to think John's dead?).

He secures the bandage back as tightly as he can without hurting Howard.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

It does hurt, but then again, Howard's used to pain. Even before coming to the Games, he was used to hunger and strain and infections and all sorts of aches and stings. Even before the FAYZ, he was the bully magnet on the playground, getting sent home from the principal's office with broken fingers, a broken nose, black eyes at least once a quarter.

"It's because you run your mouth at people," his mom said.

So he doesn't even wince. "Thanks," he says, although whether it's to Sherlock or to the fire for its warmth is up in the air.

"You're a planner," he says. "So what's your plan?"

[alldeduction]

"My plans are generally made for the solving of crime, not the perpetuating of it," Sherlock said, a little sourly, as he pulls his hands back and turns his attention to the slowly cooking animals.

In truth, all his plans are in ribbons. Everything he had worked so hard for, had sacrificed so much for, personally, was dashed. By a does of poison. The rage flashed in his eyes but he kept them peeled on the fire.

He couldn't mention it even to Howard, let alone the entire Capitol listening in on their every word, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Keep you alive. Keep me alive. Try not to run into any psychopaths with magic or massive weaponry." And burn this place to the ground.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"That's legit," Howard says, getting back up and stumbling over to his little nest in the corner of the cave. He has a tendency to do that, to makes little nooks filled with soft things when given the chance, like a rodent. He's cut up parts of the sleeping bag and the bag and is using those as bedding.

He lays down on his side and watching the dead animals drip. "Why do you do it? The crime-solving thing?"

[alldeduction]

"Because I'm good at it," Sherlock said darkly. Remembering what he used to do only fuels the rage, and adding John's death to the mix...

It was something he would never be able to return to. Never have a real occupation, never have a partner, just fight in these ridiculous arenas again, and again, and again, until the Capitol thought he was no longer entertaining enough and just killed him, or let him die, for good.

He pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning against them, hands wrapped around and pulled tight until the knuckles went white. "I was the best," he said sourly.

STEPHANIE

[alldeduction]

[blondevigilante]

Stephanie wasn't sure if she should be relieved or more anxious when night fell. Surprises in the Arena were far from welcome, but at the same time she was tired of looking at the explosion of color.

Well stocked with supplies she found it easy to avoid Tributes as she explored the landscape. She missed Tim. Both of them. She hoped they hadn't been alone when the poison hit, because that's what it had to be as she couldn't imagine either being taken out so soon. When the small silver package had floated down to her she thought it may have been a sign from Tim saying he was okay. It still might be but it was unsigned and while the items were useful they didn't exactly say anything. She walked on thinking of Tim and wondering if it would just be better to do some suicide attack against another Tribute.

A faint glow in the distance drew her attention and she slowly started to make her way over to it. Perhaps her own curiosity would get her killed before she had to take drastic measures.

[alldeduction]

The screen had come on when he'd walked past it.

He's froze, at first - sudden light in an arena (in his experience) could mean a few things, almost all of which ended in sudden, brutal, and painful death. So he froze dead still when the light began, and only slowly moved when he was sure he was not immediately going to get killed.

He turned until he caught a glimpse of light - coming from a strange, raised pillar with a screen - and walked toward it.

[blondevigilante]

She heard the crunching of feet on the candy ground, but didn't move. The screen in front of her was showing something, someone familiar.

Tim.

Tim, who missed their rendezvous making her so sure he had died at the Cornucopia. Her stomach clenched at the sight of him. She tried to make out his surroundings, but the camera stayed tight on his face. Stephanie wanted to reach out and touch him, to confirm that this wasn't some trick, but her hand stayed by her side knowing that it would be pointless and just a little dangerous to show such attachment right now. Clenching her jaw she turned away from the screen to face the newcomer.

[alldeduction]

The sugared ground crunched under his feet as he stepped up to the pillar, freezing as he caught the outline of the girl standing before it. He couldn't make out who she was, her back cast in darkness, but the screen...

He know who that was.

"Tim." He said, aloud, still several feet away - enough that if she decided he was a threat he could still run, and if she was an ally...

[blondevigilante]

Her head turns and she narrows her eyes as she makes out the stranger. Working so often in the dark has really done amazing things for her night vision, and with the glow of the screen behind her it makes the man easy to spot.

"Tim. Stephanie," she nods her head at him. "Strange Man." Her eyes want to go back to the screen, but turning her back on an unknown Tribute is dangerous at best.

[alldeduction]

"Sherlock Holmes." He stepped closer, as nonthreatening as possible - much more interested in the screen than her, now that he'd determined she posed no threat. His eyes narrowed on the television.

"That is not here," He said, stating the obvious more for his benefit than hers.

MURDER (KARKAT/CUTHBERT)

[alldeduction]

Re: MURDER (KARKAT/CUTHBERT)

[sleeplessinalternia]

So here's the thing about trolls. Trolls are a nocturnal species. They see about as well in the dark as humans see in full sunlight. So it's really not a surprise that Karkat sees Sherlock walking alone long before Sherlock can even catch a glimpse of him.

"Hey," he whispers to Cuthbert. "I can see him. That shitbaron who got you last time is on a walk by himself. How do you want to take him down?"

Finally, finally, they could begin their hunt for real.

[tis_allgood]

Bert's nightvision isn't nearly so good, but he trusts what Karkat sees and that Karkat can also see the smile that he gets when he hears who they're heading toward.

"This gift is too good to pass up. And the least we can do is make it a good show for the people back home. I say we jump him and slit his throat."

After what happened last time Cuthbert wasn't in the mood for tricks or traps or anything fancy. Just a humiliating death for the man he had dreamed of getting a second chance at.

[sleeplessinalternia]

Karkat nods, although Cuthbert can't really see it. "You'll want to do the slitting," he says. It's not really a question. Sherlock-the-tribute made Cuthbert look like a fucking dumbass, after all. He hesitates and then says, "Should we play with him first? Just to make it more humiliating." Tease him, taunt him, he means. Not torture him.

[tis_allgood]

He wants to, he really does. But he also doesn't want either of them to get hurt doing this. Not only would it take away from the humiliation he wants to give Sherlock, but it would potentially draw more of those singing abominations.

"Think you could get his pants off? He does not need a dignified death."

[sleeplessinalternia]

Karkat snickers. "Yeah. I totally could. So, pantsing and then culling. Sounds good."

(He was curious what human bulges looked like anyway. How the hell did they even work without a nook?)

[tis_allgood]

That is a terrible way to find out, but Bert hasn't exactly been smart about learning these sorts of things. Still, he's glad Karkat shares his sense of humor, they would be in worse shape if Karkat's idea of humiliating Sherlock would be to torture him.

"You are too good to me, this is more than I could have asked for."

[sleeplessinalternia]

Yeah, no. Honestly, the thought of torturing someone makes Karkat feel kind of gross. It's why he had to turn away from watching Ariadne's execution, after all.

"Just as long as we get to pants that psycho from my district too when it's his turn to go," Karkat answers, taking Cuthbert's hand to tug him in the direction they need to go.