Sherlock sat at the bar and waited for the bartender to come over. "What can I get you?" he asked.
"What would be the most sufficient way to get pissed quickly?" Sherlock asked.
"Liquor." The bartender answered. "Lots of it."
"Then that's what I'll have." Sherlock took off his scarf and coat and set them on the stool next to him.
"Any particular type you'd like?"
"Anything will do…?" he left it open ended.
"Tom." The bartender filled in. He was in his mid-fifties, in all likelihood, this was his bar. Statistically, very few middle aged men were just bartenders.
"Tom." Sherlock nodded.
Tom took out four shot glasses and placed them on the bar in front of Sherlock, then proceeded to pour a clear liquid into each one. "Did you want a chaser?"
"Sorry?" Sherlock asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"The alcohol burns on the way down, some people chase it to lessen it." Tom informed him.
"What would you suggest?" Sherlock asked, somewhat ignorant on the finer details of getting intoxicated.
"Look mate, if you're intent of getting drunk fast, I suggest you knock those back quickly and without reservation."
"Right." Sherlock nodded. He stared at the four shots in front of him and took it as a challenge. He wrapped his long fingers around the first one and lifted it to his lips. He tilted his head back slightly and gulped it down. His throat burned, causing him to cough and the pain spread to his chest.
Tom chuckled slightly and filled a tall glass with a beer. "Drink some of that."
Sherlock obliged taking a few sips. He disliked the taste of the beer but it helped. "Ok, this time hold the shot in one hand, the beer in the other. Knock back the shot and then immediately take a sip of the beer." Tom instructed him.
Sherlock did as Tom said and was surprised that chasing shot with the beer helped. "Good lad." Tom nodded approvingly and went to serve someone else.
XXXXXXX
"I had a nice time." Mary said politely as they made their way out of the restaurant.
"You don't have to lie." John told her.
"I'm not lying." She laced her fingers through his and nudged her shoulder against his own. "Your friend Sherlock is certainly a character. He wasn't enough to spoil the evening though."
"I'm sorry about that."
"Will you stop apologizing?" she sighed in frustration. "It wasn't your fault."
"It feels like it is." John shrugged.
"You've really got to relax. It was interesting to say the least. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to look up both of your websites tonight."
"My blog has been pretty dead lately. I'm afraid if I go to write in it, I'll end up sounding like a brokenhearted teenage girl." John forced a laugh.
Mary gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"Only, you know, to anyone with eyes." She chuckled.
"I guess I'm a pretty lousy date." John smiled apologetically.
"Not at all. We're both broken John. Sometimes it's not about feeling that spark or finding someone to fall madly in love with. Sometimes you just need a night out, away from the bitter loneliness."
"You're a remarkable woman Mary. If things were different, I think we really could have hit it off."
"If things were different." She nodded with a sigh.
XXXXXXX
"Have you ever had an archenemy Tom?" Sherlock asked, his voice slurring and his head was fuzzy.
"Can't say that I have." Tom answered, cleaning the glasses. The bar was mainly empty, Tom had already done last call and there were a few stragglers trying to finish their last drinks.
"I wouldn't recommend it." Sherlock huffed out a breath and put his head down on the bar. "It makes a right mess of things."
"I'll keep that in mind." Tom joked as he cleaned the glasses from the bar.
"What about love? Done that?"
"A fair few times, yeah." Tom replied. "Love can also make a right mess of things."
"It can indeed." Sherlock nodded, his cheek rubbing against the bar.
"Alright Sherlock, let's get you up and into a cab." Tom said walking around the bar. He took Sherlock's coat from its place on the stool and helped him into it. Then he draped the scarf over Sherlock's neck. Sherlock's brain felt like it was swimming in alcohol. Tom led him out the door as Sherlock stumbled alongside him.
"So this is what intoxication feels like." Sherlock mumbled as the cold night air hit him.
"You're definitely pissed." Tom shook his head. "Let's get you into a cab."
Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "You seem to be a very smart fellow Tom."
"I wouldn't say that." Tom grinned bemused.
"Are you a happy chap?" Sherlock asked, his body suddenly feeling like it weighed too much. He leaned against Tom to support this sudden weight.
"I wouldn't say that either."
"I don't do feelings. I'm rubbish at feelings." Sherlock confided.
"It seems to me that you felt something strong enough to need to come here and drink it away." Tom pointed out.
"True." Sherlock contemplated it. Emotions had never really factored into things until John. John happened and suddenly Sherlock was feeling things that he shouldn't have been feeling. John was like alcohol, messing with Sherlock's head until he couldn't think properly, couldn't see straight. Things had always been so clear before John came into the picture and muddled it all up.
"In you go Sherlock." Tom said helping him into a taxi Sherlock hadn't even noticed pull up.
"Thank you Tom, you are a right gentlemen." Sherlock said holding out his hand.
"Cheers lad." Tom said shaking Sherlock's hand and then slowly closing the door for him.
Sherlock mumbled the address to the cabbie and rested his head against the seat. He couldn't remember his head ever feeling so heavy. He'd been under the influence of things like this before but this was his first time being drunk. He'd had glasses of wine before but he'd never been a big drinker. Just another thing he could blame on Doctor John Watson, making him feel things.
Sherlock slipped out of the cab as it pulled up to 221B. He slipped the cabbie a bill, his eyes unable to focus on it so he was unsure if it was sufficient. He closed the door and stood there for a moment, his footing questionable. It felt like any moment he might topple over.
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and fell to his knees from the impact. His eyes went fuzzy and then completely black.
XXXXX
"No, he's definitely drunk. It's not an act." Sherlock heard a voice he didn't recognize and could feel someone's breath on his face. He tried to open his eyes but is vision was blurry. He could see a vague outline of a man, someone with blond hair.
For a second he thought it might be John but as the face came clearer into view, he realized with a heavy heart that it was not.
He was leaning up against something, he assumed it was the door to his flat. There was someone else, kneeling beside Sherlock but his peripheral vision was even cloudier and he couldn't make them out. At least not until they spoke. "Hello, my dear." Moriarty said quietly into his ear.
Sherlock tried desperately to get up, to get into a position where he could defend himself, but someone was holding him down. He blinked a few times, trying to get his eyesight back. He heard Jim stand up the other, the other man staying where he was to keep Sherlock in place.
"So this is what has become of the great Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty said, his voice dripping with disgust. "A drunken, sniveling mess. I've got to say Sherlock, I'm more than a little disappointed."
"Piss off." Sherlock said unable to do anything else. He felt a swift pain in his stomach, winding him. The blond man had kicked him in the gut, causing him to double over in pain.
"I came all the way here Sherlock, the least you could do is be polite." He could tell Jim was grinning from his voice.
"So you're the organ grinder. Who's the monkey?" Sherlock asked when he'd gotten his breath back.
"I told you, I don't like to get my hands dirty. That's where Sebastian comes in." Moriarty put a hand on the blond man's shoulder.
"Since when do you make house calls?" Sherlock asked, his vision finally returning completely.
"We were in the neighborhood, thought we'd pay you a little visit."
"You really shouldn't have." Sherlock found himself simultaneously wishing John were there and being relieved that he wasn't.
Jim scrunched his face and sucked a breath in through his teeth. "See, we didn't just come for tea and biscuits."
"I didn't offer any." Sherlock interjected.
Jim ignored him. "I have a little message for you, darling. I thought your desperate little search to find me was pathetic and then this happened. It's like you're not even trying, which quite frankly offends me. If you're going to play the game, play it well Sherlock."
Moriarty nodded at Sebastian and suddenly Sherlock was on his feet. Sebastian's hand was around Sherlock's throat, choking the life out of him. Jim stepped over and stood next to them.
"Now, I thought I wanted you out of the way. But see the thing is, it's a bit boring. So I'm going to need you to try just a little harder. That means no more distraction, including adorable little army doctors or trips to the pub. Tomorrow I want you fresh as a daisy and back on your feet. I would threaten you but I think you already have a pretty good idea of what I'll do."
Sherlock was clawing at Sebastian, trying to pry his hand away. He felt his eyes beginning to roll back into his head when Moriarty slapped him. "Are you paying attention?"
"Yes." Sherlock gasped.
"Good." Moriarty smiled. "Let him go Sebastian."
Sebastian's grip loosened and Sherlock sucked in as much air as his lungs could take. He began coughing and wheezing, putting his hands on his knees to brace himself.
"Before we're off, I'm going to have Sebastian rough you up a bit. I'd love to spare you it, but he gets so cranky if he goes awhile without hitting someone. Honestly he's incorrigible but such good fun at parties." Moriarty leaned in so his breath was tickling Sherlock's ear. "And between you and me, I get off on it just a little bit."
Moriarty stepped back and gave Sherlock a wink. Sherlock was about to retort when Sebastian's fist made contact with his jaw. It was like getting hit with a meat cleaver and Sherlock went down. Sebastian kicked him in the stomach again and Sherlock felt like he might throw up. The gorilla grabbed him by his coat and lifted him up, his fist smacking against his face over and over. Sherlock could feel his face dripping blood as the fist kept making contact.
"Enough." Moriarty said and Sebastian landed one final blow before dropping Sherlock. He crumpled to the ground and didn't even bother trying to get up. Moriarty called his car and the two of them disappeared inside it moments later. "Till we meet again." Moriarty called out before shutting the door.
XXXXXXXX
"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she stepped into his flat. "Your brother is here to see you."
"Tell him to piss off." Sherlock yelled from the sofa.
"Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson scolded disapprovingly.
"It's quite alright Mrs. Hudson." Mycroft said stepping into the flat. "He's been through a difficult time."
"I know." Mrs. Hudson sighed. "He hardly ever leaves the flat anymore. Not since J—"
"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock cut them off, not wanting to hear his name.
"I'll just leave you to it." She replied, leaving in a hurry.
"Is this really the best way to be occupying your time?" Mycroft asked, pushing some papers off a chair and sitting down.
"I don't see how it's any business of yours." Sherlock huffed. For some reason Mycroft always brought out his childish side. He couldn't help behaving like a petty child when his brother was around. "And you can save the concerned brother act. I'm not in the mood."
"My concern is not an act, no matter what you might think. When I was informed that you had not left your flat in a week and a half, I felt I should stop by, make sure you hadn't died."
"Yes well, you've done that now. Close the door on your way out."
"What are these?" Mycroft asked gesturing the bits and pieces on the coffee table.
"Cameras and bugs." Sherlock replied.
"Moriarty?" Mycroft assumed.
"Of course. If it wasn't you who else would it be?" Sherlock had already grown tired of this conversation. He'd spent a particularly long and grueling day going over every inch of the flat looking for how Moriarty was watching him. He knew too many intimate details to be getting things from CCTV cameras alone. He'd found a total of 12 hidden cameras around the flat and 30 bugs. He'd proceeded to smash them all in what could only be categorized as a fit.
"You could have come to me for help." Mycroft said offended.
"I'm perfectly capable of finding surveillance equipment in my apartment on my own, thank you."
"That's not what I mean and you know it." Mycroft rolled his eyes at his brother's immaturity.
"There was nothing you could have done. Besides, I took care of it. He's safe." Sherlock said through gritted teeth.
"You don't honestly believe that Sherlock, you're not that naïve. John Watson will never be safe as long as he's got a connection to you."
"I know that." Sherlock snapped in irritation. "Did you come here simply to tell me things of which I am already aware?"
"I came to make sure you hadn't fallen off the deep end, but clearly you have."
"I'm fine." Sherlock growled.
"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?" Mycroft asked, raising his eyebrow. "Why don't we try a little honesty, hmm?"
"I'm not fine." Sherlock dropped all pretenses. "I'm very far from fine."
"Yes, it seems John Watson was better for you than any of us imagined." Mycroft glanced around the room to prove his point.
"How much do you know?"
"Everything."
"Hasn't anyone told you it's rude to spy on people?" The idea of Mycroft watching Sherlock and John's more intimate moments was unsettling to say the least.
"I was simply doing what was necessary to keep you safe, I did however give you privacy when the situation called for it." Mycroft said, putting Sherlock's mind somewhat to rest.
"What do I do now?" Sherlock asked helplessly.
"You work the case Sherlock. Find Moriarty." Mycroft replied as if it was so simple.
"How?" Sherlock asked running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I've been over everything a million times. There's nothing."
"You need to take a step back. You're allowing your emotional state cloud your judgment."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not emotional." Sherlock scoffed.
Mycroft ignored him. "Perhaps this will help." He said getting up from his seat to hand Sherlock a flashdrive. "It's everything we know about Moriarty including CCTV camera footage of the night a week and a half ago he came to 221B. The camera's followed his car but unfortunately he was too clever and managed to slip them. All Moriarty's known associates are also in there."
"And why am I just getting this now?" Sherlock asked disgruntled.
"Because we just finished compiling everything today and I just finished a massive amount of paperwork that allows you to see some of the things in here." Mycroft explained.
"Oh." Sherlock said somewhat speechless. "Thank you."
"Goodness, John has been a positive influence, hasn't he?" he said surprised by Sherlock's gratitude.
"Shut up." Sherlock said heading over to his laptop and putting the flashdrive in.
"Right, well I'll leave you to it."
Sherlock was so caught up in what he was reading, he didn't even hear Mycroft leave. This was the first big break in the case, his first stroke of luck. This could be the key to everything, the key to bringing down Moriarty. After months of nothing, he suddenly had clues, something to go on. He was one step closer to bringing John Watson home.