"Oh god, what was the mother like?" John wondered aloud. "She must have been just as bad."

Elena grinned. "It's appealing because the face it is perched above is an internationally-known one," she said. "Not to mention the fact that you're not exactly a slouch in the looks department."

"The mother stood there waving a hand going 'Boo-boo, we don't run, we don't shout like that.'" Abby rolled her eyes. "And you can't just tell her to take her hellspawn and leave, you know?"

Sherlock blinked.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked. "The hat is ridiculous. There is no sense in it." And nothing would convince him otherwise.

"Because she's business and you don't want to drive business away," John said with a roll of his eyes. "People like that are usually more trouble than they're worth."

Elena just laughed a bit. "So, how are you enjoying your stay? And your hotel?"

"Agreed," Abby said, nodding.

"The hotel is passable, although bland," Sherlock said. "The receptionist is having an affair with the bellhop, which is completely unsurprising considering they spend the majority of their time together. The city seems altogether unremarkable, I can't imagine why John chose it."

"Unless they make large donations," John continued. "Then they're... passable."

"Unremarkable? After three or four days here?" Elena chuckled. "Either you haven't been to the right places or you're stubborn about wanting to stay in London. Or possibly both."

"Then they're unbearable," Abby corrected. "Still as obnoxious, but this time they can flaunt it because they know you can't speak up without risk of them withdrawing the money and you looking ungrateful."

"I have seen nothing of interest thus far," Sherlock said.

"True," John said. "Fortunately I haven't come across any of those, although you sound like you have."

Elena shook her head a bit. "Have you actually been out for more than an hour at a time?"

"Once or twice," Abby admitted. "Thankfully we didn't have to breathe the same air for long."

"Yes," Sherlock replied. And he had, technically; John had made him leave the hotel flat the first night to go out to eat, something about wanting to see how Americans treated pubs and pub food.

John nodded sympathetically. "So, a museum, sounds interesting," he said. "What do you do? Paperwork, restoration, management?"

"Huh. Well, tell you what, I'll give you a few tips if you want to find something more interesting than the inside of a hotel room." Elena raised her eyebrows at him.

"Archives and records, mostly," Abby replied. "I make sure everything that's not on active display is kept in good condition."

"Tips?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"That sounds steady," John said. "Although it does sound like you spend time with people too."

"You don't happen to have a map on you do you?" Elena asked with a raised eyebrow. "It'll be easier to point out the spots on a map."

"I try not to," Abby said. "Sometimes it's inevitable."

"John has the map," Sherlock replied. "Apparently I'm not to be trusted with it."

"It seems you can't do anything without interacting with people," John mused. "Mostly I just hope they're decent people."

Elena laughed a bit and pulled out a pen, starting to scribble on a napkin instead. "This place usually has something going on, be it a concert, a gymnastics performance, something. And they're usually a little less than legal. This place over here has the best boxing ring in town. Wonderful little place. This deli is owned by a former Secret Service officer with some fantastic stories."

Abby nodded in agreement.

"So how many times have you been in the States before this?" she asked

Sherlock nodded once and took the napkin, tucking it into his jacket.

"Only twice before this," John said. "Once for a funeral for a friend, and once I was on holiday with a few comrades from the army."

Elena looked at him for a few moments. "So, which hotel are you staying in? There are only five in a fifteen-mile radius that are three-star or above, although one of them is undergoing renovations, so I think that one is out."

"A doctor and military?" Abby asked. "That's impressive."

Sherlock resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. He saw what she was doing.

"We're staying nearby. The taxi trip wasn't long," he said.

John shrugged. "It's not much," he said modestly. "Plenty of people have done more than me."

"And judging by the press of your clothes, I'd say a four-star. Suite, maybe, or separate rooms for you and Dr. Watson." Elena grinned. "Am I wrong?"

That just made Abby smile.

"Oh I definitely have to keep you," she teased.

"Indeed not," Sherlock said. "But on the same token I can tell by your appearance that your own clothes are clean, washed three days ago, but not pressed at all; likely the polyester-chiffon doesn't need it unless it's been balled up somewhere for a few days, which your skirt was not. Your shoes are worn but not worn out, indicating that they're favored and not worn often, although you've owned them for a while, and the shirt is not yours; it fits, but not perfectly, and the color does nothing for you but doesn't clash, indicating that you likely borrowed it from a similarly-sized friend. American girls do that, don't they?" He looked at her, expression almost bored.

John blushed a bit but grinned. Well at least things were going well so far.

Elena grinned and dipped her head while making fancy little bowing motions with her hands. "I bow to one superior in the arts of observation," she said, not at all put off as she looked up at him again. "Oh, by the way, you missed a little spot shaving, right under your chin."

"So, any brothers or sisters?" Abby asked, trying to keep the conversation moving.

Before he could stop himself, Sherlock raised a hand to feel for himself.

"Ignore it," he said.

"One sister," John said. "We don't talk much though. What about you?"

"Oh don't worry, I'll do my best to ignore the evidence that you're human," Elena said with a grin. "Although I am curious about something."

"A brother," Abby replied. "We're on good enough terms. Lots of extended family, though."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Do tell."

"Ah. You come from a big family? Get to see the extended family often?" John was curious, since he'd never had that.

"If you don't want to be here and you're not enjoying yourself, why are you here?" Elena blinked at him.

"About once a year or so," Abby said, nodding. "Sometimes more. Mostly my dad's side of the family, since we're not real close with my mother's relatives. But my dad's family is made of Scottish roots, mostly."

Sherlock couldn't very well admit that he'd been threatened with the vacation, so he said nothing, just shrugging slightly.

"It was hypothesized that perhaps a change of scene was in order," he replied at last.

"Ah, Scots. They can be pretty entertaining. I've been invited to a family gathering before, one of my mates was Scottish. It was... loud." John grinned briefly.

Elena rested her chin on her hands. "And how is that working out for you?"