THIS IS HOW IT BEGINS
anonymous
January 24 2011, 17:27:14 UTC
His mother is a sturdy woman, muscles built from handling haunches of meat, wrestling everything from whole pigs or cows, though most of the time it was smaller work--dog, goat, squirrel. Whatever the poachers could snag, whatever they could afford to buy from District 10.
She didn’t need to be sober to cut meat; nobody cared if her hands were steady.
It was only after his father was caught poaching and killed that she came down on him. Said he was supposed to take his father’s place, supposed to take care of the family, but he was never good enough. He was the one getting tessarae, he was the one going into the woods hen she wasn’t looking but she always caught him and grew angry. She’d hit him, screaming at him for tempting fate like his father.
It’d been growing worse. Hellebore spent most of her time hiding. Jon endured the screaming, the increasing number of bruises. He lost a tooth to one of her blows, his injuries were impossible to hide. The adults all knew, but nobody wanted the trouble reporting it would bring, the burden of orphans and the eye of Capitol.
She always cried afterward, when she sobered up. Apologized and swore she’d never do it again, never touch the still they hid even though it was good money. He stopped believing her after a while, stopped caring about all the words that came from her mouth.
It was a bad day. He couldn’t see, she’d hit him hard enough his vision swam. But today, it made him angry. Today, he was tired of hiding for her.
There is a knife on the block. He knows it, has held it countless times.
Suddenly, it’s there, in his hands, when she isn’t looking.
Suddenly, it’s there, in the soft skin beneath her breastbone.
Suddenly, she ‘s convulsing on the floor, blood flowing into the runoff drains and into the collection pools. They cook it until it congeals because there is no room for waste, not with his mother and Hellebore drinking away their money. All he can think about is how it’s ruined now. They can’t use this blood, it’s all wrong.
There are noises, faces, Hellebore screaming. He stares at his mother, feels the pain on his cheek where she hit him.
“A tragedy,” the mayor says, posture stiff. When did he get there? “She committed suicide.”
Jon looks up, the words slipping past, but the mayor doesn’t look at him. “I’ll take care of this, Jon. Nothing will happen to you or Hellebore. She’s only a few months away from being an adult, there’s no need to make a fuss out of this. The Peacekeepers won’t know.”
He vomits, doesn’t leave the house or eat for days. Hellebore brings him meals but won’t sleep in the house any more. She takes the still with her.
His hands shake now. He dreams of the feel of blood on his hands and wakes up crying.
THIS IS HOW IT ENDS (final part)
anonymous
January 24 2011, 17:29:02 UTC
The world is white when he awakens. For a brief moment he wonders if he’s dead but the sheet over him, the bright light directly overhead dispel the illusion. It’s confusing. Jon was sure-
“Ah, you’ve awakened,” says a man that Jon can’t help but instantly dislike just from his tone. It’s entitled, full of false charm and arrogance, Capitol through and through.
His whole body feels leaden and stiff, but he turns his neck to take in the stranger. “Who are you?” Jon hates him even more at the sight of him. His cheeks are full, stomach rounded with paunch. He’s overweight, and it’s such a blatant, offensive sign of wealth-he’s not gone hungry, not been malnourished and worked to the bone. Jon wants to tear him apart.
“Mycroft Holmes,” he says with a fake smile, like a snake playing polite to its food.
Now he sees why Sherlock hated his brother so badly. But it doesn’t make sense, why is he here? Is he gloating over the outcome? Jon opens his mouth to start demanding answers.
“Now now, no need to be angry with me. I’ve just recovered you from a very delicate situation.”
Jon can’t remember what happened, the details sliding away from him, but it can wait. “Why?”
“Sherlock made a deal with me.”
“What kind of deal?” Jon doesn’t trust this man, remembers what Sherlock said-the most dangerous man you’ll ever meet.
“I am out to destroy the government, Jonquil Watchmen. I will tear it apart at the seams. Sherlock agreed to help me, provided I got you out.”
It’s spoken as nonchalantly as inquiring about the weather. Jon can’t help but admire his backbone, for as much as he hates him. He found some way to get into Capitol despite being from a district and only in his twenties, it seems impossible. Jon wonders what kind of price he paid for that power.
It makes no sense. They both couldn’t be alive. “But how-“
“The technology available in Capitol is truly amazing,” Mycroft explains as if he’s a small child. “Now, let’s get you fixed up and discreetly tucked away, shall we? Sherlock is waiting.”
Re: THIS IS HOW IT ENDS (final part)
anonymous
January 24 2011, 19:58:11 UTC
Ohhh my gosh, HEARTS AND STARS IN MY EYES, anon. Thank you for posting this. And oh Mycroft, you bugger. Of course you'd do that. I enjoyed the heck out of this.
Re: THIS IS HOW IT ENDS (final part)jesse_kipsFebruary 3 2011, 13:20:28 UTC
OMG OMG OMFG.
This was absolutely fabulous. Such a stunning fusion between the two worlds- you really wrote the harshness and hopelessness of the situation, and there was a plot and various endings and Mycroft being super-powerful, and the Sherlock and John relationship built up so well. . . Seriously, this was amazing. I am going to save this on my favourites, and read it a million more times.
Re: THIS IS HOW IT ENDS (final part)blamethecupcakeApril 21 2011, 03:15:33 UTC
I JUST FINISHED READING THE HUNGER GAMES THEN RUSHED OFF TO READ THIS AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT IT IS PERFECT AND I LOVE IT. CAPSLOCK ALONE CAN NOT EXPRESS MY LOVE.
Re: THIS IS HOW IT ENDS (final part)iwouldbegoodApril 13 2012, 12:15:29 UTC
I found this because it recently got recced somewhere, or someone asked for a Sherlock/Hunger Games crossover, and now I can't find that post anymore...
Anyway, I am so glad it did, I absolutely loved it! The intensity of the fic and the reality of it, and the plot and perfect characterization. And disjointed narrative and the form of it was so great, particularly how the This Is How It Begins/Ends part takes the central position and is the lengthiest one and includes this lovely lovely line:
Jon is too busy smiling to think that the warmth creeping into his chest means nothing good.
She didn’t need to be sober to cut meat; nobody cared if her hands were steady.
It was only after his father was caught poaching and killed that she came down on him. Said he was supposed to take his father’s place, supposed to take care of the family, but he was never good enough. He was the one getting tessarae, he was the one going into the woods hen she wasn’t looking but she always caught him and grew angry. She’d hit him, screaming at him for tempting fate like his father.
It’d been growing worse. Hellebore spent most of her time hiding. Jon endured the screaming, the increasing number of bruises. He lost a tooth to one of her blows, his injuries were impossible to hide. The adults all knew, but nobody wanted the trouble reporting it would bring, the burden of orphans and the eye of Capitol.
She always cried afterward, when she sobered up. Apologized and swore she’d never do it again, never touch the still they hid even though it was good money. He stopped believing her after a while, stopped caring about all the words that came from her mouth.
It was a bad day. He couldn’t see, she’d hit him hard enough his vision swam. But today, it made him angry. Today, he was tired of hiding for her.
There is a knife on the block. He knows it, has held it countless times.
Suddenly, it’s there, in his hands, when she isn’t looking.
Suddenly, it’s there, in the soft skin beneath her breastbone.
Suddenly, she ‘s convulsing on the floor, blood flowing into the runoff drains and into the collection pools. They cook it until it congeals because there is no room for waste, not with his mother and Hellebore drinking away their money. All he can think about is how it’s ruined now. They can’t use this blood, it’s all wrong.
There are noises, faces, Hellebore screaming. He stares at his mother, feels the pain on his cheek where she hit him.
“A tragedy,” the mayor says, posture stiff. When did he get there? “She committed suicide.”
Jon looks up, the words slipping past, but the mayor doesn’t look at him. “I’ll take care of this, Jon. Nothing will happen to you or Hellebore. She’s only a few months away from being an adult, there’s no need to make a fuss out of this. The Peacekeepers won’t know.”
He vomits, doesn’t leave the house or eat for days. Hellebore brings him meals but won’t sleep in the house any more. She takes the still with her.
His hands shake now. He dreams of the feel of blood on his hands and wakes up crying.
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“Ah, you’ve awakened,” says a man that Jon can’t help but instantly dislike just from his tone. It’s entitled, full of false charm and arrogance, Capitol through and through.
His whole body feels leaden and stiff, but he turns his neck to take in the stranger. “Who are you?” Jon hates him even more at the sight of him. His cheeks are full, stomach rounded with paunch. He’s overweight, and it’s such a blatant, offensive sign of wealth-he’s not gone hungry, not been malnourished and worked to the bone. Jon wants to tear him apart.
“Mycroft Holmes,” he says with a fake smile, like a snake playing polite to its food.
Now he sees why Sherlock hated his brother so badly. But it doesn’t make sense, why is he here? Is he gloating over the outcome? Jon opens his mouth to start demanding answers.
“Now now, no need to be angry with me. I’ve just recovered you from a very delicate situation.”
Jon can’t remember what happened, the details sliding away from him, but it can wait. “Why?”
“Sherlock made a deal with me.”
“What kind of deal?” Jon doesn’t trust this man, remembers what Sherlock said-the most dangerous man you’ll ever meet.
“I am out to destroy the government, Jonquil Watchmen. I will tear it apart at the seams. Sherlock agreed to help me, provided I got you out.”
It’s spoken as nonchalantly as inquiring about the weather. Jon can’t help but admire his backbone, for as much as he hates him. He found some way to get into Capitol despite being from a district and only in his twenties, it seems impossible. Jon wonders what kind of price he paid for that power.
It makes no sense. They both couldn’t be alive. “But how-“
“The technology available in Capitol is truly amazing,” Mycroft explains as if he’s a small child. “Now, let’s get you fixed up and discreetly tucked away, shall we? Sherlock is waiting.”
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This. I love the books, but you just made them even more awesome. Oh John. My heart just hurt for him.
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This was absolutely fabulous. Such a stunning fusion between the two worlds- you really wrote the harshness and hopelessness of the situation, and there was a plot and various endings and Mycroft being super-powerful, and the Sherlock and John relationship built up so well. . . Seriously, this was amazing. I am going to save this on my favourites, and read it a million more times.
Hearts hearts hearts <3 <3
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THIS IS SLIGHTLY BETTER.
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Anyway, I am so glad it did, I absolutely loved it! The intensity of the fic and the reality of it, and the plot and perfect characterization. And disjointed narrative and the form of it was so great, particularly how the This Is How It Begins/Ends part takes the central position and is the lengthiest one and includes this lovely lovely line:
Jon is too busy smiling to think that the warmth creeping into his chest means nothing good.
Also, thank you for letting them both live! <3
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