Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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