Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I'm the man who's going to kill your friend.
All the best secret societies have them.
Well, I've got something they would dearly love,
who insists on getting credit for something he didn't do!
She's my friend. And she's under my protection.
Mr Baker. Well, that completes the set.
- The porch where we came in? - How anybody could hate her so much
No-one had any cause to go near his car,
The same thing inside the house? The bust?
A city on the banks of the river Yamuna
The body in the car, dead for a week.
Effectively a costume.
- Have a good time. - I will.
I am! What makes you think I'm not taking it seriously?
'Yeah, signal's rubbish. But I can still hear you.'
He can't have got far. We'll have him in a bit.
God, 50!
You, uh...?
What's so important about a broken bust of Margaret Thatcher?
Yeah? It's been there since nine this morning.
Charlie Welsborough, the son.
No. I delete his texts. I delete any text that begins Hi.
This is it, though. This is the one, I can feel it.
- 'Sorry, I'm here. I'm just a bit...' - Are you all right?
Veer left!
I don't!
Hang on, Mary's better than me?
Sherlock... It's never twins.
You find yourself in a workshop,
and made his way many, many miles, to the city of Samarra.
Didn't you get John's text?
Are you serious?
- Hey. - Afternoon.
Let's have a look.
Well, I've been telling you that for ages.
What?
Yeah, very much so.
Harker. And it's murder this time.
_
Yeah, two different types of vinyl.
classified beyond top secret.
That was six years ago.
It's the gap, look at the gap. It's wrong.
There were other images of Margaret... Margaret...?
How many more times, Mr Sherlock?
Keep up, he's fast.
- Female? - For God's sake!
- Getting any sleep? - Christ, no.
He's got a point.
'So, what about it, then?
Alex. Gabriel.
Take all the credit. It gets boring if I just solve them all.
destroying them all. Makes no sense. What's the point?
- Who employed you? - Anyone who paid well.
- Mary... Oh, no! - There you go.
Well, I texted you the details.
How could she...?!
...Thatcher, present at the first break-in.
No, no good.
I told you - Moriarty's dead.
Greg.
In a way that was true.
Well, it's a lovely day. Go for a stroll?
Don't antagonise them, darling.
That batch of statues was made in Tbilisi several years ago.
- Can't get the staff. - Everyone out, now!
What is it?
But when, at last, he came to Samarra,
Why are you playing for time?
God, I just wanted a bit of peace, and I really thought I had it.
I don't know. We... We all had one but the others were...
God is a ludicrous fiction, dreamt up by inadequates