Four years ago, Margaret won the Hunger Games. The arena had been water-based, and being from District Four gave her an undeniable edge. Once she got her hands on a spear, it was over. Fast. Clean. Efficient.
You were folding sheets upstairs. The atmosphere at Grimmauld Place was as usual, quiet and cold as you had been used to all your life, especially since your grandmother passed away.
*Sherlock was waiting for his wife’s train to come in. She was on tour with her friend to see a ballet she was so desperate to watch and she’s just getting back today. They haven’t seen each other in about three months and miss each other terribly.*