Hey so this is my new story. It takes place about 8 years after the first book. Set in an AU where the rebellions were more active before the Quarter Quell, the Capitol won, and all was back to normal by the time of the Quarter Quell.

Reviews are appreciated, especially ones that include constructive criticism or just nice things.

Sherlock

Sherlock woke early the morning of reaping day. Not that waking early was unusual for Sherlock. He detested sleeping, being awake was much better. When he was awake he could observe others, carry out experiments on the district and the people in it, and, most importantly, teach himself how to fight. Sherlock lived in District 12, the mining district of Panem. He was a child of the business class. His parents ran a respectable business, and his older brother, Mycroft, had been mayor for four years now. One would think that this would make him safe from being reaped, but Sherlock knew this wasn't true.

After all the mayhem that had been caused by Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark eight years previously the Capitol had changed the rules of the Games. Panem had come too close to an uprising for President Snows liking, so he had doubled the amount of tributes that were entered into the Games each year. He also doubled the numbered of winners each year. Two survivors out of forty-eight, and they didn't even have to be from the same District. Snow acted like this made him generous, but all it did was make the districts hate him more. Katniss and Peeta still lived in District 12, and they would be mentoring the tributes for as long as they lived. That was their punishment for what they had done, each year being responsible for the death of four children. Well, that among other things. Following Katniss and Peeta's wedding, which President Snow had insisted they go through with despite the rebelling that had been going on at the time, Katniss' sister Prim had been reaped for the Quarter Quell, and she hadn't lasted past the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. There had been an "accident" in the mines soon after, and Gale Hawthorne's body had never been found. Then Katniss had gotten pregnant. Twice. Two kids who everybody knew would be reaped as soon as they turned twelve.

Sherlock didn't like to think about it. He didn't like thinking about how everything had gotten worse in eight years. He had only been nine at the time. If he had been the age he was now, seventeen, with his amazing brain, he had no doubt they could have overthrown the Capitol. But it was too late now. The districts were too scared of the Capitol to even think about saying anything against them, and, as much as Sherlock hated to admit it, he would be unsuccessful if he tried acting on his own.

So Sherlock rolled out of bed, putting all thought out of his mind, and went to his closet. He pulled out his nice pants and dress shirt, his nicest clothes and the ones he wore whenever Mycroft forced him to some government affair. Sherlock did not enjoy these, seeing as they basically consisted of the Victory Tour dinners. Watching solemn kids try and look as though they were enjoying themselves is never pleasant.

He went downstairs, grabbing a muffin from the kitchen, before heading out the door. The sun still low in the sky as he walked down the street, chewing his muffin and trying not to get crumbs on his shirt. He hadn't had a plan for where he would go when he left, but he ended up where he always did. His bench.

It wasn't strictly speaking his, but he was the only one who ever sat on it. It was on the outskirts of the Seam. Out of the corner of his right eye he could see the Seam, all the lower class people of the district. There was a dirt road to his left that led to the mines, and one ahead that led to the main town square and the school. Almost directly straight ahead was the Town Hall. Some days, when the weather was too hot for comfort, Mycroft would have his office windows open and Sherlock would watch from a distance and try to decipher what was happening inside. He would question Mycroft about his observations later and was almost always right.

Sherlock stayed on his bench, deducing the people who walked by, until the occasional person leaving the Seam had changed into a steady stream of people heading to the town square for the reaping. They were all in their nicest clothing, and Sherlock couldn't help but try and guess which ones would have the highest chance of being reaped. He reluctantly stood up and joined in the walk to the town square. He exchanged curt nods with the kids he knew from school and the adults, and he tried to smile reassuringly at the younger kids, but stopped after the third one had looked away in fear.

When he arrived at the town square Mycroft was up on the stage along with Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch and the Capitol escort, Laina. This was Laina's third year as the District 12 escort, and she was much less annoying than Effie who had been promoted to District 8.

The girls were reaped first. The first, a fourteen year old, Anna, from the Seam with far too many friends who all started sobbing the moment her name had been called. The second was also from the Seam, an eighteen year old named Clara.

Then it was the boys turn. Despite his efforts not to get nervous, Sherlock's hands were getting sweaty.

Laina had a slip of paper in her hands. She unfolded it slowly, it seemed an eternity to all the boys waiting. She cleared her throat, irritating Sherlock. He wished she'd hurry up and announce who it was, the suspense was completely unnecessary.

"John Watson."

Sherlock groaned internally, glancing to his left where he saw John, also seventeen, standing. His friends were all around him, grasping his shoulders, arms, back, their faces identical mixtures of shock and pain. John waited only a moment before shaking them off and walking slowly up to the stage. Sherlock watched him go. John Watson was one of the few people who Sherlock was able to stand. Being the same age, they had been in the same class since they were young children, and John had always been nicer to him than the others. He was also more intelligent than most, but was also athletic and friendly. Sherlock didn't have any friends. He had realized at a young age that other people his age were boring and stupid, but if he had to have picked a friend, it would have been John. By the time John reached the stage, Laina had another slip in her hand.

"Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and strolled up to the stage, knowing it couldn't have gone any other way, not really.