"Now, I've got another lad coming up for you in a jiffy, but first, let's welcome Jennifer's replacement! Say hello to Sherlock, a detective from London!"

"Consulting detective." Sherlock muttered as the cameras panned over to him and he plastered a fake grin on his face.

This case was interesting, he couldn't deny it, but national television wasn't the best place for a detective to be. Gets rid of all the secrecy. Bit not good, that.

He'd had a client come to him asking his help in exposing his cheating girlfriend. The girlfriend was indeed cheating, as she was standing next to him. On a dating show.

He'd only stuck with the case to investigate her stupidity at first, but then Mycroft appeared and said that Sherlock had to go for dinner as it was mummy's birthday and it was just so unfortunate that the case had a lot more to it than just a cheating girlfriend. Obviously.

There had to be more to it. She couldn't be that stupid as to think she wouldn't be discovered by going on a dating show. A popular dating show at that. A recently controversial one too, as Sherlock had been allowed on, as had Ian, the man three girls up from him.

The rules to the show seemed quite simple. Everyone was given a light. A typically aesthetically pleasing man came onto the stage in a lift, but if you didn't like the look of them, you turned your light off. Then you found out a little bit about them, and if they didn't appeal to you, you could then turn your light off. Then they showed off a talent of sorts, and you turned your light off if you were not impressed. Eventually, it would be wittled down to the last remaining few contestants, and one lucky one would get to go on a date to the supposedly magical island. All seemed pretty tedious, but Sherlock would give it a shot.

The music started and the lift began to descend. Not a song Sherlock was familiar with, meaning it was a new part of pop culture he'd not yet been infected with. He repressed a shudder at the desperation on the girl's face next to him as she sang along to the song and did what Sherlock assumed was a dance, but he couldn't be sure.

Feet appeared at the top of the lift. Some of the girls looked a bit put out, and Sherlock looked to see why. A cane. Psychosomatic limp, it was obvious by the angle, so he wasn't sure why the girls were looking like an old man was about to descend to the stage.

Trousered legs. There was a heatwave outside, so the man must be used to hotter temperatures than that of London, which was a "scorching" 16 degrees. Adding that to the limp, soldier.

Hands. Slightly calloused, but in overall good nick. The hand that wasn't on the cane hung awkwardly, seeming to want something else to hold on to, wanting to keep busy. Small hands, too small for a rifle. Army doctor then.

"Good evening, I'm John, and I'm from London!"

Around ten of the thirty guys and girls turned their lights off.

Sherlock looked up. He'd been trying to justify that the man definitely was an army doctor and so had missed him appear from the lift and walk around doing the pretentious walk that it was insisted everyone emerging from that lift did.

"Not bad, not bad." The host, Paddy something, gave this 'John from London' a reassuring pat on the back. "Sherlock, why is your light still on?"

Sherlock looked at Paddy then, perhaps seeming slightly gormless for a split second if you'd slowed the footage down, but nothing compared to the idiotic looks on his fellow contestants' faces.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Ahhh. This idea has probably been done to death, but I've not seen one quite like this before. I saw one that was Sherlock and some woman. And John Watson, Bachelor is kinda close, and I do love that.

But yeah, Take Me Out, Johnlock style.

I had to.

No likey, no lighty.

Also known as feed me your reviews and I'll love you forever, and like, add more to this. I have way more. Sadly.