Sherlock morosely gazed down at the nearly empty New York City street. "Tell me again, John, why the shops are closed on a Thursday?"
"Because it's the American holiday, Thanksgiving."
"They're thankful for having a bank holiday on Thursday?"
"No, no, pilgrims fleeing religious persecution in Europe, Native Americans, Sir Walter Raleigh. Any of this ringing a bell?"
"I realize it's a footnote in British history, but it's pretty important to them, apparently."
"What do they do to celebrate? Go about thanking each other?"
"I believe they get together with their families and loved ones and have a massive dinner of turkey or other game bird and all sorts of side dishes and pies and then they collapse in front of their tellys for what they call football."
"Turkeys with bacon?" Since beginning to eat with John, Sherlock had developed a great fondness for bacon.
"I don't think so. Despite putting bacon on everything else, they don't put bacon on their turkeys."
"Pity. So it's a holiday celebrated by massive overconsumption?"
"Actually I think that all of their holidays are marked by overconsumption. Even their independence day features huge picnics and fireworks."
"Independence from what?"
"Oh, for the love of—from us, Sherlock. From us!"
Sherlock turned to stare at John, a puzzled look on his face. "I assure you, I had nothing to do with it."
"NO! Not from you and me. From Great Britain. War of Independence, King George III?" although, John reflected, it wouldn't surprise him if Mycroft had had something to do with it.
"John, why do you know so much about it?"
"I had an American pen-pal when I was a child."
"Ah, irrelevant, dull, dull, dull," Sherlock complained, throwing himself both artlessly and yet somehow gracefully across his bed and closing his eyes. "Americans are idiots. What do they do with the rest of the weekend? Will the shops be open tomorrow, or is this whole trip pointless?"
"Tomorrow, I suppose because they're closed today, all the shops open at dawn and everyone tries to crowd in at once to take advantage of the sales. They're not big on orderly queues, Americans. It's like the opening of a Harry Potter movie, only everything is going on sale."
"They voluntarily join a mob?"
"Well, the Americans are very tactile. You know—with all that crowding there could be theft."
Sherlock flapped a hand to indicate boring.
Sherlock opened one eye.
"Possibly even murder, if the price is right."
"Well, that could be interesting. We will have to go out tomorrow and investigate. What shall we do until then?"
"I suppose we shall have to find something to do in this hotel room."