Your Criminal in Luxury Westwood

[trigger warning - non consensual advances made, not by either of the main characters.]

"I've told you! I'm not interested... And besides, I have... I have a boyfriend." Sherlock squirmed as the man eyed him up for surely the 58th time that evening.

"Haven't you ever heard of cheating? Quite fun actually, gives you an adrenaline rush." He winked, making Sherlock even more uncomfortable.

Wildly Sherlock thought of who he could call; John told him that any mess he got himself was his own fault, George Lestrade was probably just as drunk as he was, Mycroft... No chance.

Maybe Moriarty? Boy, Sherlock was drunk.
He took out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he reached the one. He hit the call button, aware of the strange man only a few inches away.

"Hellooooo, Sherly!" Moriarty's sing song voice made him jump.
"Hey, can you... help me?" He whispered.
"The Sherlock Holmes? Asking for help?" Moriarty jeered.
"Look, I'm at a gay club... This man keeps on hitting on me, so I told him I had a boyfriend... please... can you come and pick me up!" Sherlock hissed urgently.
"Why can't you get your little pet?" He queried.
"He's banned me from going home to baker street when I'm drunk... Please... Just come and pick me up, I'll say you're my boyfriend and we can go." He pleaded.
"A chance to be Sherlock Holmes' boyfriend? How could I resist!"
"Please, just hurry up, I've texted you the address of the club." Sherlock begged.
"I'm on my way, it's only down a few blocks away." Sighing in relief as the call ended, Sherlock began to ease up.

"My boyfriend is on his way... he's gonna take me home." Sherlock murmured, mostly to himself more than the man.

"Don't be like that sweetheart... You're missing out big time." As the creep murmured, he began running his skinny fingers up Sherlock's torso, ignoring Sherlock's wriggling in attempt to escape. Slowly, his spider like fingers traced  the perimeter of his chest, sending unpleasant shivers up Sherlock's spine. He began to panic, shaking in the man's grip.

A gunshot jolted him from his anxiety, as the hands on him disappeared, their owner had jumped back in fright, missing the shot.

"Get your hands off him, you perverted freak." Moriarty whispered menacingly.

"And what if I don't? After all, he's such a pretty boy... I'm sure he's a tasty treat." The man licked his lips at his remark.

"Come on, Sherlock. You okay, love?" Moriarty, gently placed his arm around his 'boyfriend's' waist, pulling him away.

"Fight me for him. The winner gets to take him home." The man bargained.

Moriarty laughed at his offer, glancing back at him to reply: "I'm the one with the gun, honey."

"You wouldn't dare shoot. You'd be arrested within minutes." The man stated, confidently.

"I've shot four people today, and look at me, roaming the streets of London." He  joked, before sending a perfectly aimed shot over his shoulder.

Sherlock giggled drunkenly, as he leant on his saviour unsteadily, watching the man collapse, blood streaming from the wound.

"Ah, my knight in shining armour!" He sighed, as Moriarty helped him into the passenger seat of his car.

Moriarty shook his head, "Your criminal in luxury Westwood."

He waited for a reply, as he began to drive, before realising that the man had fallen asleep.