A normal person who had just seen his almost boyfriend storm out of their flat would be upset, but Sherlock was no normal man. Instead all he could think of was the case. When he thought of John he tried to dismiss the part of him that did feel loss and regret. He was the world's only consulting detective, he couldn't have a boyfriend. It was best John knew that now. It was better in the long run. He was a solitary man, he always had been and he always will be.

John paced around the cold London streets. It was dark, he wanted to go inside and get warm but he couldn't think of anywhere to go. He saw a car follow him for a while but he was in no mood to talk to Mycroft so he darted into some side streets trying to lose him. He eventually found himself outside a pub called the Black Swan. He sighed and walked in, drinking himself silly in a quiet corner was all he wanted to do right now.

He walked inside the gloomy pub and bought a beer, setting down in a table at the back he nursed it. He tried to figure out what he was going to do. Harry seemed like the only available option, it's not like he could go back to Sherlock, he wasn't even sure he even wanted to. He felt so stupid and disappointed with himself. Sherlock had spent his entire life devoted to his work, ignoring any sort of human relationship, what made him think a few blowjobs would change all this? He should have learnt ages ago that he would never come first, in fact he was wrong to assume Sherlock would even think of him at all.

John looked around, it was jammed, full of people having a good time, he hoped he would be ignored. Great, he was one of those weirdo's who sat alone drinking in pubs.

'Seats not taken is it?' A friendly voice asked him out of the babble.

'Go ahead' John gestured miserably.

'Tough day?' Any hoped that he would be ignored soon vanished. He suddenly realised the guy speaking was George Sparks, the translator he had bumped into outside Coyle's flat. He smiled weakly.

'Let me guess. Two words, first word begins with S' He laughed.

'Something like that'

'I know how you feel mate, my wife left me a few weeks back, so it looks like you and I could both do with cheering up. Next rounds on me'

George proved quite an easy guy to talk to and John was glad to have some company. George didn't mind hearing John moan about Sherlock, and John tried to comfort him when he was telling him all about his wife Anna, who had run of with some guy she had met. After that they just talked about ordinary things, after living with Sherlock for so long he had forgotten just how nice it was to have an ordinary conversation with someone.

It was getting late and John heard the bell being rung for last orders.

'Better be heading home' John drained the last of his beer.

'Thought you were going to your sisters' George asked.

'Yeah, I had planned to, it's a bit late to just turn up on her doorstep' John looked at his watch even though her was perfectly aware of what time it was.

'Listen John, stay at mine, you can sleep on my sofa and we'll sort everything out in the morning.' George lightly punched John's arm playfully.

George drove them back to his flat, somewhere in London, John was too drunk to tell where they were going. He had drunk far too much. They walked inside and he collapsed on George's sofa.

'Here drink this or you will feel like hell in the morning' He was handed a glass of water. John's mouth tasted awful so when he drank the water he got a really bitter taste in his mouth. He was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning he could tell. Taking his trousers of he was handed a spare duvet by George.

'Night John'

'Night...Sherlock' John closed his eyes and went to sleep.