an: Heyyy ^u^! Well i have never really written a crossover so no flames please! Constructive critisim is very welcome though! I have only finished the hunger games and i am now reading catching fire. So if anything is wrong feel free to tell me! Oh and if it sort of sounds like the book, I have the book beside me to help. John lives is district 12 by the way. Enjoy! Oh and i have never really written a proper sherlock fic so if they seem a little ooc please tell me.

The Fallen

John POV.

I wake up. My body numb from the cold. My blanket snatched cruelly from my grasp. I look up to see my sister. Her breath still reeking of alcohol.

"Get up." She rasped her voice cracking from the amount of alcohol that passes down her god forsaken throat. She used to sing. She had the most amazing voice. So sweet like petals falling into a pond on a summer's day. Not now. The alcohol broke and twisted her voice. A shadow of what it used to be. A shadow of who she used to be.

She left my room as I got up. I looked at my body in the tiny mirror that used to belong to our mother. It was supposed to go to my sister, but she couldn't care less for what she looked like. She only cares about the bitter liquid that makes her forget this stupid life.

Skinny, Malnourished but well-built all the same. Well certainly fit for this area. Many children walk around like the walking dead. Skeletons. I am better fed than most.

Reaping day. The worst day of the year, for Adults and Children Alike. The day when your children get sentenced to death.

I hastily climb into the cast iron tub, which is slowly but surely rusting around the edges. I poor ice cold water over my head. My body erupts in Goosebumps from the cold touch. I act like a don't care but I do. My mother used to heat up all the water we used for washing. She lovingly boiled it over the fire. I used to watch with curious eyes. She told me never to touch, wait until it had cooled a little. One time I was foolish. I tipped the pot and the boiling water poured over my right shoulder. It was bad. I have a scar that runs deep into my muscles; I stroke it gently thinking of her. Of what could have been. Of what should have been.

It reminds me of that day, 3 years ago. The pain still hasn't gone away. I heard there screams. I will probably carry them for the rest of life. Even after that. The screams of their pain as I tried to get them out. I failed as I always do. A mining explosion. Run root under our home. Blew it to pieces. Along with everyone else's in our street. So many lives were lost that day. People screaming. My mother trapped under the rubble. She died just as I pulled her out.

That day I had gone to the justice building to sign up for tesserae with my sister for company. My parents had forced her to go with me. We wish we had died with them.

My sister's lover Clara had also been killed in the blast. She had been calling to our house, her mother told us. Wondering why Harry was late. She blames me you know. Harry. If I had not signed up for tesserae our life would have been easier. If I had been man enough to go by myself Clara would be alive. She Hates me.

We used to live in the better part of district 12. We never really needed tesserae but I felt I was doing something for the family. Now were in the seam. My fault again…

I dry myself with a little bit of itchy cloth. I rubbed my skin raw. I pulled on not my normal clothes but my Reaping Clothes. A clean shirt. What a treat! If I hadn't have been washing this the night before I would fear that my sister was ill. Treating me to such luxuries! We could be in the capitol for all I know! My jeans are mostly clean, apart from the small scuffs at the back. I tuck my blue checked shit into my jeans and fix my drying hair. My blond locks falling in front of my eyes.

Before I know it, it's one o'clock. I make my way to the square with the rest of the children of district 12. They line us up like cattle. Livestock. Reading to be butchered. I stare hard at the little glass ball with over a thousand names in it. Mine is entered in 15 times. Not a lot in a thousand. But still enough chance to be picked.

The mayor and a ridiculous woman walk on stage. Well I say walk, the woman mostly skipped. She is new. I don't know her name. Capitol obviously. What else? The crazy pea green hairdo. The pale white skin. Capitol Fashions. The height of dignity.

The mayor looks nervous as he looks every year. His skin is waxy. I eyes are sunken. Who knows if he will actually be alive next year?

"This is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks."

Every mayor must start the welcoming speech with that. Then he would read out the victors. 61 years we have had one. Yes one. Haymitch Abernathy. A good for nothing drunk. This year he is. You guessed it! Drunk. The struggles to sit on the chair. I have to stop myself from laughing. Haymitch won the last quarter quell. The special hunger games they have every 25 years. He won the 50th but that goes without saying.

The mayor introduces the woman. Effie trinket! What a name. Capitol People and their stupid names.

"Happy Hunger games! And may the odds be ever in your favour. She's very happy. Too happy but to most people in the capitol the hunger games is celebrated.

"Ladies first!"

She put her hand into the bowl pulling it out at once. Like it was full of snakes.

"Airmet Carphilis!"

Airmet a girl know more than 12 or 13 makes her way shakily onstage. She collapses into tears her blonde hair hiding her face. Effie askes does anyone want to volunteer. No one answers. Like always.

I began thinking of returning home. Having my only meal of the day. Maybe see some friends like mike. Retreat to my little world.

Effie puts her hand into the other ball her hand digging to the very bottom. I don't care. All that I care about is my little world.

"John Watson"

Then my world came crashing down around me…

Tbc.

An: REVIEW! I KNOW YOU WANT TOO! - should i write sherlock view of the reaping?