AUTHOR'S NOTE: *WARNING* Don't read this without first reading Die Another Day, the prequel to this fanfic! Also don't read if you haven't seen Reichenbach Fall.

Ok so I ignored my own rule here...I told myself i wouldn't start this until my exams were over but here i am. Updates won't be too often to start with but they will speed up soon. Anyway here's the prologue. Enjoy!

Mycroft Holmes sighed softly pinching the bridge of his nose before placing the newspaper he'd been reading on the table.
The press had changed their tune now, it had started with his little brother being a fraud and committing suicide when the truth had been found out.

Harriet Watson had then released a statement saying that everyone had seen Sherlock live in the Hunger Games, they'd all seen what a genius he was in there.

Now the blame had changed to the Hunger Games, saying that being forced to compete in them had driven Sherlock to suicide. Mycroft knew that wasn't the truth, he didn't know why his brother had deemed death necessary but he had a feeling that it had something to do with John Watson.
Mycroft got to his feet and brushed his hands down his jacket brushing away non-existent dust. He strode to the far side of the room flicking a light on, today had been one of those beautiful days when the sun sat in the sky offering its light to everyone, even Sherlock.
Mycroft had gone to the grave stone, he hadn't spoken a word while he was there. Just watched the dark marble glitter in the sunlight, reflecting his image back at him. But his life was too busy to remain with his little brother all day, he'd quickly come back to the office working by the window in the sunlight.
For a brief moment he'd been reminded of his teenage years, sat by the window doing school work while tiny Sherlock Holmes ran around the garden being a pirate he black curls bobbing as he ran around with a plastic sword.
Mycroft quickly moved his mind back to the work at hand. Sherlock was dead, being sentimental helped no one.
Sherlock's death had caused a relatively small uprising. The uprising was against the Hunger Games but the Hunger Games were pretty much run by the government so were getting the blame. Mycroft was having to maintain his countries reputation to prevent a full blown rebellion. Sherlock and his fall appeared to have been the spark that was close to becoming a fire. Mycroft's phone bleeped informing that John Watson had visited Sherlock's grave.

"I haven't come for a few weeks so I thought I should just come and say hi" John shifted his weight on to his good leg. He wasn't limping again thank god, but his leg did feel a little stiffer than it should.
"I saw Lestrade the other day. He's still got his job. Just. Said that he needed you on a case the other day." John fell into silence
"You've started an uprising you know. Everybody hates the government. Bet you've pissed Mycroft off…Haven't seen him for ages. Not that I want to after what he did."
John looked away for a moment. Then back at the glistening marble.
"Just talk back. Tell me I'm stupid for believing you're dead. Please?"
Silence fell around him. A crow squawked loudly causing John to jump slightly, with a soft sigh he gave Sherlock a small nod before leaving the stone in peace.

Harriet Watson snorted loudly at the headline printed on her partner's newspaper
'CHAMPION SUICIDE BLAMED ON HUNGER GAMES'
Not the catchiest headline she had to admit. If there was one thing the press were good at it was blowing stuff out of proportion.
"Why are you reading that crap?" Harry asked Clara who in reply lowered the paper playfully raising an eyebrow.
"Sherlock was a good man, and the press are making him out as some nutter"
"He could be a nutter, maybe he just acted sort of normal while he was in the Hunger Games killing people"
"Don't say that"
"Jesus Harry, you are so easy to tease!" Clara stuck her tongue out "Don't worry I'm on your side. Anyway rumours are saying this year's games are going to be cancelled. Apparently the uprising would cause too many problems at the open event and the reaping an' all"
"Why couldn't they have cancelled them last year?"
"Because there was a pile of wood but no one had set it alight. Sherlock's death was the match. Now we need to fan the flame"
"Aren't we metaphorical today?"
"Just saying honey. Anyway I need to go to work."
"Just quit. I've won enough money to keep us going for years"
"Yes well I enjoy my job. See you later" Clara grinned at Harry before heading out the door. Harry gave a snort at the sight of the newspaper.
Poor Sherlock. He'd hate all this publicity.

In New York it was night time. No stars were visible in the sky except the occasional helicopter that mimicked there light.
A man strode down the street, every item he wore was designer, from sunglasses to trainers. He'd recently come into a new business for a man named Moriarty. His new boss refused to have a face to face meeting, but the money offered certainly made up for this. He took his phone from his pocket to check his facebook. He was a social man, just because he was a hired assassin didn't mean he couldn't indulge in social networking.
The man was too busy typing on the touchscreen to see something melt out of the shadows behind him, the shadow formed the shape of a man in a long dark coat which flowed out behind him as he strode towards the facebooking assassin. Plenty of other people were walking down the street yet none of them were observant enough to see the shadow pull a gun from his pocket.
Some would say that it was the Hunger Games that had caused this man to hunt down all people in the Moriarty empire. But Sherlock Holmes, a shadow of his former self, knew that it was his friends lives being put on the line that had driven him to such an arduous task.