Hello! I now present you with chapter two! We're currently having really nice weather in Ireland (for once) so I am making the most of that whilst working on this also! I'm taking the story a little slowly at the moment but I have a lot planned for when we actually hit the arena,

As always feel free to comment/review and any and all criticisms will be taken on board. Just try to be constructive.

Disclaimer: Not mine... yet.

Sherlock looked up at the mention of his name and stood still for a moment. He'd thought that this would happen every year, hell he'd had nightmares about his name being called when he wasn't even eligible to participate in the Games yet, he'd remembered his brother slapping him and telling him to cop himself on and go back to sleep and that if he ever was called on to be in The Hunger Games crying wouldn't help.

Someone pushed Sherlock roughly from behind and he stumbled. He turned to see Philip Anderson behind him.

"Go on freak," he said gruffly.

Sherlock just cut the boy a look before trudging forwards towards the stage, the crowd separating for him. Nobody wanting to be near the dead boy walking.

He stepped up onto the stage and took his place beside Henry and ignored the questions from Jennifer Wilson. He simply stood staring out angrily at the crowd in front of him. He couldn't help but notice the gleeful expressions of the young adults, yeah it sucked that four of their own were more than likely going to be dead in less than a month but better them than us. And better yet that one of them was Sherlock Holmes.

There was some customary bullshit after that that Sherlock deleted from memory before he and the other tributes were led into separate rooms to say their last good byes to their families. Sherlock somehow managed to curl his lanky frame into a small armchair in the middle of the room and waited to see if he'd have any visitors... scratch that visitor, who else would bother coming besides Mycroft?

"Bad posture will not get you far in the Games brother dear," said Mycroft dully as he entered the room to find Sherlock wrapped up in the chair. Sherlock lifted his head. "Oh, and I thought I had just discovered the secret to becoming victorious, oh darn."

Mycroft scowled. "There's nothing I can do to get you out of this one Sherlock," he said in a small voice.

"I don't recall asking for your help Mycroft," replied Sherlock putting his head back down on the chair's armrest.

"Polite as always Sherlock," said Mycroft in a clipped tone.

There was an awkward silence between the brothers for a moment; neither was entirely sure what to say.

"The mayor asked me to journey to the Capitol with the tributes," said Mycroft after a long pause. "I didn't think I'd be bringing my kid brother along too." Mycroft's voice threatened to break but he sustained his composure, this was not the time for sentiment.

Sherlock shot up from the chair. "You're coming to the Capitol?"

"Yes," said Mycroft simply. "Since District 12's only winning tribute died last May there was nobody to attend the Capitol with this year's tributes, obviously the mayor can't leave so he asked me to accompany this year's contestants."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this little announcement. He finally simply shrugged his shoulders and collapsed back down on the chair. "I guess I'll see you on the train then... brother mine," he said dismissively.

Mycroft nodded, he knew better than to continue talking to his little brother after a blatant dismissal. He stood up and walked to the door. He reached out for the handle and stopped. "Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're smarter than them you know. You could win this," said Mycroft.

Sherlock looked up and studied the older man for a moment. "Unlikely," he said finally.

"Oh Sherlock," said Mycroft in a singsong tone. "How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?"

Before Sherlock could say anything Mycroft left the room closing the door behind him leaving his little brother alone with his thoughts.

Sherlock was left in the room for another forty minutes or so before two peacekeepers came and dragged him from the room, a quick car journey brought him to the train station where he was met with a dozen cameras and news reporters shouting his name.

"Oh for God sake," he muttered under his breath combing his hair with his fingers in a weak attempt to cover his face. "Do they really not have anything better to photograph?"

"Seemingly not kid," said the cabbie.

Sherlock sighed through his nose as he watched a peacekeeper clear his way to the taxi and Sherlock prepared to be roughly dragged from the car.

"Hey kid?" said the cabbie suddenly and Sherlock turned as the peacekeeper ripped open the door and grabbed Sherlock's shirt.

"May the odds be ever in your favour," said the cabbie honestly and Sherlock gave a weak smile as he was pulled from the car.

Sherlock, Henry, Molly and the other girl who Sherlock soon discovered was called Kinsa were forced to stand on the platform of the train station as their photos were taken. Sherlock could easily see he had been the only one of the four tributes who hadn't cried. He remembered Mycroft's words from when he was a child and looked down at his feet. "Fuck the Capitol anyway," he mumbled.

After an unnecessary amount of photos had been taken Sherlock and the others were finally permitted entry onto the train. Sherlock had actually never been on a train before and something akin to a childlike glee burned inside him at the thoughts of the giant engine, pity about the final destination though...

"Is it true?" asked a small voice behind him.

Sherlock turned to see Molly Hooper had caught up with his long strides and was doing a silly kind of fast paced walk to keep up with him as he walked down the train's carriage.

"Is what true?" asked Sherlock.

"Is your brother coming with us?"

Sherlock stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yes," he said monotonously.

"You're lucky," said Molly quietly, it was evident from her throaty voice that she'd been sobbing a lot not so long ago. "I wish my family could come with me."

"Mycroft really is more of a burden than a prize to be honest," said Sherlock ignoring Molly's pitiful words.

"At least your brother is here with you," said Molly her tone becoming darker.

"Oh yes," said Sherlock venomously. "How wonderful, Sherlock Holmes has just been sentenced to death but no need to worry his big brother will be there to hold his hand all the way to the arena! Excuse me if I don't wish to see the silver lining in this turn of events Ms. Hooper." With that Sherlock stormed on forwards leaving Molly alone in the carriage.

Sherlock slammed the carriage door behind him and took a seat by a large table; Mycroft was already here.

"I do realise you are going to be participating in the Hunger Games but there really is not a need for you to make enemies before we've even pulled out of the station Sherlock."

Sherlock simply scoffed and proceeded to play with a coaster that was on the table. "What difference does it make?"

Before Mycroft could give Sherlock an answer the door Sherlock had slammed only moments ago opened and Molly, Henry and Kinsa entered the room.

Mycroft made an attempt to smile at the other tributes. "Hello," he said in a sickly sweet tone that almost made Sherlock gag. "Come on sit down, they are about to serve dinner."

Sherlock continued to play with the coaster in his hands and ignored the others as train attendants crowded into the room with tureens of poached vegetables, mashed potatoes and lamb chops in rich gravy. Sherlock perked up despite himself at the sight of the food, he often told himself he didn't need to eat like other people and that digestion slowed him down but he couldn't help salivating as the attendants carried out the food and his stomach growled loudly.

Sherlock helped himself to a large plateful of food, taking a sample of something from each of the tureens before sitting back down at the table curling one of his legs beneath him.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's plate. "There's no need to eat everything on the train Sherlock," he said in a baritone.

Sherlock tore a piece of meat from the bone. "The Capitol are forcing me to fight for my life against almost fifty other teenagers the least they can do is buy me dinner first."

Molly smiled. "He has a point," she said in a small voice.

Kinsa and Henry simply made a sniffing noise and poked at their food, eating slowly.

Mycroft eyed all the tributes sceptically before started on his own food. "You may consider splitting into groups, two of you could win this after all."

"I'm not teaming up with the freak," said Kinsa with a sudden burst of venom glaring at Sherlock.

Sherlock took an exaggerated bite from a carrot and raised an eyebrow. "Fine with me. I wouldn't ally with you anyway... perhaps you might want to slow down on the carbohydrates Kinsa," he said coldly as Kinsa stopped spooning potatoes onto her plate and looked as if she may just burst into tears again.

Sherlock grunted as Henry kicked him under the table. "Leave her alone," he said trying to sound brave.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the younger boy but said nothing and turned his attention back to his dinner.

Molly and Mycroft exchanged a nervous glance before Mycroft began speaking again. "I assume that you and Kinsa plan on working together then?" he asked Henry.

Henry and Kinsa nodded in unison.

"And dying together too I'm afraid," said Sherlock clearing his plate and standing up.

"Sherlock!" said Mycroft sternly.

Sherlock didn't bother to acknowledge his brother. "I'm going to go explore," he said walking across the room.

"Sherlock we really should talk about what's going to happen," said Kinsa seemingly gaining her confidence back.

"Will talking help me survive an arrow to the chest?"

The others at the table remained silent.

"I thought so," said Sherlock. "I'm going to go explore," he repeated his tone final as he exited the room.

Might leave it there for now... 'til next time! Toodles ;)