Hello! I was watching the Hunger Games earlier and I thought to myself, what would Johnlock do in this situation? Here's my take!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, The Hunger Games or its characters, and I am making no money off this. I'm just having fun! The title comes from the song of the same name by Taylor Swift!

If you know a little about the Hunger Games, then you should be able to enjoy it! If you have any questions about something shoot me a pm. A few changes: the gender of the tributes isn't relevant, there aren't enough girls in the Sherlockverse, so some districts get two boys. Hope that's okay :) also Sherlock's family is originally from district 12, but Sherlock snuck into 9 and no one made a fuss. Not much is known about district 9, so I'm going to play with the mystery of that a bit, that's why Mycroft is a victor of 12 but Sherlock will be a tribute from 9. It takes a while for Sherlock to be introduced but it'll be worth it! Okay, without further ado: Safe and Sound!


John Watson groaned wearily as he wrapped the cotton bandage around his thigh. The cotton was soon stained a deep red and he sighed, pulling his pant leg down to cover the wound. Harry would yell at him for weeks over his carelessness, but he pushed that out of his mind. The only thing he would focus on today was the sound of animals creeping through the bushes, and the swish as he let go of his bowstring.

He heard the telltale crash as the squirrel fell out of the tree and he rushed to pick it up. He'd hit it straight through the eye, like always. He pulled the arrow out and wiped the blood off on the grass beside him. He glanced up at the sky; the sun was still relatively low in the sky, still a few hours until the reaping.

He walked back into the district, limping slightly, and made his way to the hob to sell his haul. Thanks to his steady hand and quick reflexes, he had managed to avoid taking out tesserae as much as possible. That being said, John still had his name entered 21 times. He was glad his little sister was only entered once. Hopefully the odds would be in her favour.

After trading some of his game for other necessary supplies, John made the long walk home, his game bag light, but his thoughts heavy. He always hated the day of the reaping, and he doubted that would ever change. Even though he didn't have his name in the draw as much as some people, there was still the very real possibility of being chosen to compete in the Hunger Games, and a 1 in 24 chance of survival. John didn't like the odds.

At home, Harry was curled up on her small mattress, a pretty blue dress seeming to swallow her whole. John had tried to reassure her many times, "this is your first reaping, Harry, and you've only got your name in once. There's no way you'll be chosen." But Harry was still nervous, and John couldn't blame her. He sat her up on the bed and tucked her short blond hair behind her ear. "I've got some bread from the hob, and you've got cheese from your goat. Why don't you go get it served up while I get ready? And we'll have squirrel soup for dinner, okay?" He rubbed her back soothingly and Harry managed a small smile before getting up to prepare the food.

John put on his cleanest button up shirt and a pair of trousers he had from when he went to school. He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. In a few hours the reaping would be over and he could go back to hunting and forgetting about the Capitol.

"Why are you limping, John?" Harry was placing thin goat cheese slices on the few pieces of warm bread John had managed to acquire, but she stared at him disapprovingly.

"Don't worry about it. I bandaged it up, I'll be fine." He slumped down at their small dining table. "Just got a scratch on the barbed wire fence."

Harry frowned, her forehead creasing and making her seem much older than she was. "You never cut yourself on the fence."

"Well I did today. It's just because I'm a little on edge today. I'll be fine tomorrow, you'll see."


After their bread and cheese, John led Harry down to the square where the reaping would take place. He gripped her little hand and tried to be reassuring, but he was failing pretty miserably.

"Harry, go over in that line, okay? They'll prick your finger and take some blood to sign you in. It'll barely hurt. I'll be in this line. Look for me in the crowd." John gave her a small push in the direction she was supposed to go and smiled sadly at her retreating back.

Clara Jones was ahead of him in the line, and he poked her in the shoulder. She turned stiffly and tried to smile at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Hi, John. How are you?"

"About as good as anyone can be today. How are you feeling, Clara?"

She shook her head. "I'm terrified. I've got my name in sixteen times this year."

John smiled at her. "I've got mine in twenty one times. We'll be all right. I've heard Anthony Tyler has his name in fifty seven times!"

Clara laughed a little at that, and let herself relax a little. The Peacekeepers pricked their fingers, and Clara and John stood side by side in the square. John looked around for Harry, and he saw her a a few rows away, standing with her age group. He waved at her and she jerked her hand slightly in return. John returned his attention to the stage.

A woman with bubblegum pink lips and crazy hair stood before the mic, relaying facts about the Capitol and the Hunger Games, but John was barely listening. He'd heard it before, they all had, every single year. He watched the terrified faces of the children around him, all scared that today their luck would run out.

As he watched, the entire crowd visibly tensed and he returned his gaze to the stage, where Effie Trinket was waving her arm around in a large bowl of papers. As she pulled out a slip, everyone in the square held their breath.

"And our first tribute is," she opened the small slip, "Harriet Watson!"

John felt his heart stop and Clara gripped his hand. He saw his small, young, innocent sister begin the terrifying walk towards the stage. She was only twelve. A twelve year old shouldn't be forced to fight for her life in an arena. As John watched a small tear wind it's way down her cheek, he realized what he needed to do.

"I volunteer!" He rushed into the middle aisle, where Harry was walking to her doom and he went to grab her and throw her behind him. You can't have her, he thought, take me instead. "I volunteer as tribute!"

Behind him, Harry began to scream. He ached to go to her, but he couldn't. They wouldn't let him touch her. He saw Clara reach for Harry out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to them. "Take care of her, Clara. Keep her safe."


I hope you liked it! More to come, I'm having so much fun writing this, I just can't stop! Reviews are great, they give me the courage to keep posting :)