Sherlock Holmes has never failed a case, but this was a rare occasion. Usually missing persons cases were a breeze, but this kidnapper left absolutely no trace. The victims were young girls ranging from 7 to 9 years of age. Their parents never heard nor saw the kidnapper. This man or woman was obviously clever considering there was almost always at least one clue to go off of.

"Looks like you're losing your touch Sherlock." Anderson said with a smirk.

"Oh shut up!" Sherlock snapped.

Sherlock would never admit it, but he was starting to wonder If he really was losing his touch. Lately he was having issues with his deductions, his brilliant mind hadn't been as sharp. He wondered if maybe he was distracted and maybe if it could be his growing feelings for his flat mate over the months they've lived together.

Sherlock's intellect was all he had, really. Well that and John, but his intelligence was another thing. He took massive amounts of pride in his intelligence, and to think it was slipping away from him was almost maddening. To think John was the reason for this problem was even more maddening.

After several minutes of getting nowhere with the case, Sherlock and John left Lestrade's office.

"We're taking separate cabs." Sherlock said coldly.

"Is everything alright?" John asked.

"Yes." Sherlock said as he walked ahead of John.

John knew he was lying, he always knew. This time he just assumed Sherlock was ticked off that he was outsmarted for once. Which was true but there was more that was going on inside Sherlock's mind that he wasn't aware of.

Sherlock stopped the taxi in front of small pub. It wasn't the classiest place but he wanted to be sure he wouldn't see anyone he knew so he didn't have to make boring, meaningless conversation.

The pub was nearly vacant, with just a few people in a corner playing cards. It reeked of cigarette smoke and sweat. He was relieved to see no one he knew. He sat down quietly at the bar and ordered pint after pint.

An hour later Sherlock stumbled out of the pub, extremely drunk. He felt the cold London air on his face, which slightly brought him back to reality.

After being ignored by numerous cabs because of his current state, he finally got one take him back to Baker street. The ride was a little over an hour long.

Sherlock paid the cabbie and slowly got out of the car. He un gracefully staggered up the stairs into the living room. John had his face buried in one of his boring novels.

"Where have you been? I texted you five times." John said looking up from his book obviously irritated.

Sherlock didn't even notice John had texted him when he was at the pub, making his mood worse. Sherlock always noticed when he had received a text.

"Why do you care?" Sherlock slurred, sounding like a bratty teenager.

"You're drunk."

"Obviously." Sherlock said.

"Is this because of the case?" John asked.

"No." Sherlock lied.

"I know when you're lying to me Sherlock! I'm not as stupid as you make me out to be." John snapped.

Sherlock ignored John and flopped down onto the sofa.

"So you're going to ignore me now?" John said.

"What is there to say John?" Sherlock asked.

He knew there things to say, but he had no interest in discussing them now.

"Well I'm pretty confused right now. You rarely drink, and when you do you never get full on drunk. So why now?" John asked.

"It's none of your concern." Sherlock said flatly.

"You're fucking ridiculous sometimes, you know that?" John yelled.

"I'm going to Sarah's." He stated. Sounding a bit more calm. But still agitated.

Sherlock didn't respond knowing there was no point in arguing. He knew John needed to cool off and would be back in the morning like he always was after one of their many rows.

Sherlock despised Sarah though. Not because she was boring, but because she got touch, kiss and sleep with John. His John. The thought sickened Sherlock.

Eventually the alcohol in his system caught up with him and he drifted off to sleep for the first time in God knows how long.