A few hours ago…

Sherlock looked up and down the road. Where the hell was Mycroft's car?
He gave a growl of annoyance.
A car drew up beside him, 'Anthea' was within.
"In." she didn't even look up at him.
"What data do we have?"
"Both got a strange invite, both got kidnapped within ten minutes of each other. Someone came to try and get your brother as well but I detained them."
"Who were the invites from?"
"They weren't signed but I'm sure you can make an educated guess."

Present.
John looked up trying to find the sky but the masses of green foliage blocked his view.
"How many other Tributes do you think there are then?" John turned to Lestrade as he spoke.
"If he's re-enacting the normal games normal number I suppose."
"He's a psychopath." John muttered.
"Yeah, one that only Sherlock could deal with." Lestrade's tone was bitter.
"Not even Sherlock could deal with him in the end." John said his voice very quiet, but Lestrade heard him.
"Well, I suppose we should find a water supply or something. It's boiling here, and I'd rather not die of dehydration." Lestrade clapped his hands together, trying to seem prepared. John gave a nod of agreement. Being in the army meant that John was good at adapting to such heats but they still needed water. Both men got to their feet.
"Which direction should he take?"
"We should go right, water flows downhill so would should have more luck down there." John decided.
Lestrade nodded, he lacked survival knowledge, he'd never been a boy scout so he couldn't question the ex-soldier's judgement.

The second the car stopped Sherlock was out, they were at his brother's office this time. The building would be near empty at this time in the morning. He knew the layout of this building and where Mycroft would be. He didn't bother waiting for Anthea, she hadn't offered anything helpful so far and he doubted that would change.
He strode through the building, which looked a lot less impressive when he didn't have his coat billowing out behind him. He really did despise his current outfit.
He shoved Mycroft's door open and walked in, his brother didn't even look up at his entrance.
"Back so soon?" Mycroft asked.
"What happened? You said you were watching them! How did this happen?"
"Calm down Sherlock and I'll explain."
Sherlock's emotions drained away instantly, his face becoming a blank mask. He lowered himself into the chair opposite his older brother. Mycroft handed him a folder filled with images from CCTV, a photocopy of the invites and other various pieces of paper.
"How did this happen in such populated areas?" Sherlock spoke to himself more than his brother, he flicked through the papers before standing up.
"What was it you and John said to that man back in 'A study in pink' Welcome to London?" Mycroft asked.
Sherlock snorted.
"You've been away to long Sherlock, you've forgotten what it's like here?"
"I haven't forgotten anything." Sherlock replied coolly.
Mycroft smiled at Sherlock further annoying the younger man. Sherlock scooped the papers up and headed back outside. He didn't need to ask to know that Mycroft would have a car and 'Anthea' waiting down the street for him. He wasn't sure if that was good or not. He ran his fingers through his short hair and stepped out onto the pavement. Sure enough ten metres down the road sat a black car.
"Mr Holmes?" The voice came from behind him, Sherlock ignored him. "Mr Sherlock Holmes?"
"I'm sorry I think you're mistaken-" Sherlock was cut off by a fist connecting with his jaw, he stumbled sideways catching himself on the wall.
"You're coming with me Mr Holmes."
"I'm afraid I have other plans." Sherlock spat a mouthful of blood on the floor.
"The boss requested your presence."
"The boss?"
"Moriarty. James Moriarty."
Sherlock straightened up.
"Tell him I'm on my way."

Sherlock found once he'd agreed to go with Moriarty's men that he no longer got punched. He was now being driven to an unknown location in a rather expensive car. He kept his eyes fixed on the passing landscape, the car turned off around a corner. The road was bleached a pale grey from years of sunlight but was reasonably smooth suggesting it wasn't used often, he scanned the surrounding area, the further they got from central London the more worn and tired the buildings looked, Sherlock knew exactly where he was, he knew there was a old abandoned factory out here, about two miles away. Two lefts and a right would take them there. After a few more minutes of silence the car drew to a halt confirming Sherlock's suspicions.
The building was most defiantly on its last legs, it wouldn't take much to bring the structure crashing down. Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back and strode towards the door without need of an invitation. His stormy eyes panned across the room for anything resembling a clue.
"Sorry for the wait. I was just making sure Johnny and his friend were nice and unconscious. I have big plans for them. Anyway down to business."
"Still alive then?" Sherlock asked moving his gaze from his ceiling to the Consulting Criminal.
"Obviously." Moriarty rolled his eyes playfully. "Can't believe you fell for it, your phone call to John was adorable though. I have to admit I did have a quick peek at your phone after your little 'accident' your texts to John were just so cute, so domestic…" The last word was said with disgust.
"Is there a point to this?"
"Yes actually. You're not dead. But my Sebby is, and I'm afraid that I've sunk to the level of revenge. I'm glad you're not dead. Killing you was a quick and easy solution, this way I can keep my promise, burn the heart out of you properly."
"An eye for an eye I suppose? I killed Moran. You kill John."
"No. That would be easy. Easy and boring. My new game it's genius really."
"Care to enlighten me?"
"The Hunger Games. Where this all started, perfect way to finish it all don't you think? I'll let you work out the rest by yourself. I'll sure it'll be obvious then."
Sherlock's lips remained sealed for a moment as he considered what Moriarty was planning but then a cloth was clamped over his mouth, the smell of chloroform made Sherlock's eyes water and his body started to go limp until he fell to the floor. The last thing he saw was Moriarty smiling down at him, waving.

"You were supposed to knock him out after he had got changed" Moriarty looked at his new pet henchman with mock disapproval. "Doesn't matter pack his outfit in a bag and leave them with him in the arena."
"What weapon are you giving him?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
The henchman remained silent.
"A bow and arrow."

A/N: Again, I'm sorry for the wait.