Disclaimer: I don't think it's necessary here, but as you know, I own nothing mentioned here. Actually, if BBC reads this, it may start considering laying claim to me instead...

A.N. Number 4, 5, 6 and 7 are courtesy of my dearest muse Ennui Enigma. If you wish to contribute with your own experiences (at least mine really happened, to my shame – not really) I will happily add another chapter. P.S. will have spoilers – well, hinting at – The Sign of Thre, as well as a confession someone might have already read on my tumblr account.

You know you've had too much BBC!Sherlock when...

You do the opposite of your spellcheck and instinctively correct in your mind any written Microsoft to Mycroft.

Seeing the Belstaff brand on a shop window makes you smile like a dazed idiot.

If you see in a park a fake pirate ship for children to play with, you chuckle. In the most severe cases, you might experience short hallucinations of a curly haired kid.

You turn up your coat collar to look cool

You classify the difficulty of problem by the number of nicotine patches it takes

Blue scarves make your heart flip flop

Your friends will no longer play cluedo with you because insist that the rules are wrong

When someone, either in real life or fictional character, upset you deeply enough, you wish you could just consult Jim Moriarty about him. And ask him to be creative about it.

Even if you didn't care particularly for it before (maybe even if you hated it? I wouldn't know) you suddenly find the violin unbearably sexy. Pavlov was right.

Strolling alone under the rain, if you see someone who might be unsavoury (but maybe you're just paranoid), you lament your lack of foresight, sure that Mycroft's brolly would make a much better impromptu weapon than yours.

You research random chemical elements' properties (if not quite as hands-on as Sherlock) and find it fun, if only for obscure allusions to canon.

Your new treadmill's serial number ends in 221...and it feels like fate, so you smile like an idiot.

You can't hear Staying alive, even by a ridiculuous imitator, without having to suppress a shiver ,or having images of being on top of the roof of high buildings!

You start to torment your hair when you're upset (it does make things better – slightly!).

You see the book The full cupboard of life by Alexander Mc Call Smith in its italian translation, whose title actually means Tea is always an answer, and your first reaction is, "Do you concur too?". Then you check the author, read "is a Rhodesian-born Scottish writer and Emeritus Professor of Medical Law at the University of Edinburgh", fixate on "Scottish" and "Medical" and say to yourself, "There's a trend here!" :D

You discover (from a fellow writer) that a flower called Iris Reichenbachii actually exists in northeast Greece and you wonder if Moriarty survived and decided to relocate to Macedonia since he feels like Alexander the Great...

Surfing tv channels, you see the name Michael Moriarty of an actor (and on the mistery channel to boot) and get the urge to phone Interpol or someone. Even if it isn't James. Then you check him on Wiki, read he doubled as a politician, and get even more suspicious for some reason. But it is when you read, "A website called Michael Moriarty Unofficial, Unauthorized, Unsanctioned Home Page contains editorials by Moriarty, and these, in addition to posts on ESR, contain scathing denunciations of an eclectic array of targets, including [...] Sir Arthur Conan Doyle" that you do decide he must be some sort of grandchild (grandnephew?) and that if NSA has to spy on someone you fervently hope they check on him too. Just as a precaution. XD

on Thesaurus . com you see the slideshow "11 Mustache Monikers for Movember" and wonder if they too are getting all hyped about season 3. Then read it and get frustrated because out of 11 terms for mustaches, beards and sideburns there isn't the right word for John's mustache in season 3. Oh well. It will be known as Watson style.

Seeing an advert for lessons about how to become a private detective, you stop and ponder. But you don't because you'd end up investigating adulteries most likely:-)

You read from the corner of the eye "DA TESTARE" in block letters (meaning " to be tested") and have to turn and reread because you'v read "Lestrade" something.

P.S. After The Sign of Three, you're doubly ecstatic about said treadmill. It isn't as high class as Mycroft's – far from it – but hey you have somethig in common! And speaking of treadmills...
I was on it and had the radio blaring. I left it (and the room) for a moment, and when I was back Staying alive 'welcomed' me. ...And before any conscious thought had time to form, I very quickly backtracked out of the room with the vague feeling that it was dangerous and finding cover wouldn't go amiss. Then I realized what I was doing. BBC branded my hypotalamus. I'm ruined.