Work Text:
“Whaddya think? Do I look enough like a tourist?”
John grinned at the American indicating her own outfit – short trousers, short-sleeved shirt, camera around the neck, belly-pack, day bag – as she waited with others at the bus stop. It was a gorgeous sunny summer day in Warwick, blue and cloudless. Playing along, he called out, “You need a Hawaiian shirt. That one’s too subdued.”
The middle-aged woman laughed, along with others at the bus stop. “You’re right! I knew I’d forgotten something!”
“She’s forgotten more than that,” Sherlock muttered as their cab pulled to a stop. “It’s not clothes or accent that mark a tourist, but what’s not there.”
John got into the cab with Sherlock. “No umbrella. None I could see.” Even on this sunny day his pop-up brolly was in his backpack.
“I guarantee there isn’t one in that bag. Her tan and accent mark her as a Californian. We can confirm this in a few hours, as she’s also heading to the castle.”
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After they interviewed the staff at the gift shop and got the names of part-time summer workers, the men headed to the boathouse – and wound up sharing it with the tourists during a sudden, heavy downpour from dark grey skies.
“Voila,” said Sherlock.
Among them was the California tourist wringing out her sodden day bag.