Warning for homophobic slurs, but don't worry, Sherlock puts them all in their place.
"Queers!"
"Poofs!"
"Shirt-lifters!"
The taunts were coming from a group of young thugs at the end of the alley. John was ready to walk right by them, but they'd caught Sherlock's attention, and he was staring them down, much in the manner a hawk might stare down a small rodent.
He stalked down the alley, pulling himself up to his full height, eyes fixed on his target.
"Really, is that the worst you can come up with? Considering that I had my arm wrapped around him, it wasn't really much of a gamble, now was it? As for you three..." Sherlock paused, studying them for a moment. "Your mother left when you were a toddler, and your father is absent at best. You act out in the hopes of gaining some attention from them." He turned to the second one "You're actually a grade-A student, member of several high-achieving clubs. You're hanging out with these clots in an attempt to gain some sort of street cred." Sherlock cringed at the term before analysing the last boy. "And you... still wet the bed?"
John burst out laughing and dragged Sherlock back out of the alley, leaving the three teens to bicker and argue. Faint strains of their conversation carried out into the street.
"...It's not my fault, I have a small bladder!"