The first time Sherlock Holmes failed, he was in the twelfth grade. A rather attractive student by the name of Michelle had been assigned to work as his partner in chemistry, and he found himself distracted. She was intelligent, engaging, and very beautiful. So, being a teenager, he tried to flirt with her.
"Michelle," he said. "Um…I was wondering if you've been bred for the specific intent of seducing me."
She looked at him, skeptically, unsure what to think. Sherlock had a reputation for being the most unromantic boy in school—he never flirted.
"What I'm trying to say is that your genome would appear to be entirely compatible with mine."
"…right," she said slowly.
"And if, perhaps, you wanted to take my haploids, I really wouldn't mind."
By this point, anyone could see that Michelle was both amused and shocked at Sherlock's peculiar pick-up lines.
"I know you already have a boyfriend with whom you regularly shag, but he's lacking the intellectual prowess that I could bring to the table. After all, we can't allow natural selection to breed the IQ of the human race down." He was blushing somewhat now. "Uh…so…" He'd run out of things to say.
Michelle looked at him, skeptical, and uttered one word that for the next few days, at least, would smash poor Sherlock's heart. "No."