A rather excited voice sounded from within a rather unusual library. An outstanding array of journals, books and scrolls were tucked away in the circular shelves that rise up from the floor, embedded into the interior of the thick tree trunk a young lavender pony called home. The storage of knowledge had been moulded to fit inside a huge, magnificent tree which stood taller than many of Ponyville’s other establishments. Quaint little round windows poked from the green leaves that covered the branches, with a small balcony on one side, ready for anypony wanting to night gaze.

The mare who sounded quite ecstatic was Twilight Sparkle, known to be the town librarian however more recent events had magnified her status as she became a Princess of Equestria. Regardless of her new title she seemed very... ‘common’ wouldn’t be the right word, yet she hadn’t at all taken to royalty and behaving like a true Princess. She had the horn and wings, and that was all she deemed necessary to show her power. At least for now.

“Not at all Mr Watson!” Twilight exclaimed as she slipped away a few books into one of the hundreds of shelves circulating the library with her purple magic aura. She didn’t even have to spare a look at where she placed some of the books, her knowledge of the library being so extensive. “I think it’s a very interesting idea seeing as how you’re experiences have left you with quite the mindset.”

Twilight was speaking to a pony of about the same age as her, if not a little older. A dirty blonde mane covered his head and neck, with a hint of grey seeping through. Perhaps he was quite a bit older than her, although he had a young face. His mane stopped at the pale woollen jumper he wore over his khaki jacket, his choice of style no doubt shocking to some ponies residing in the town.

Not long before Watson had told Twilight of his recent retirement from being a member of the Royal Guard, a military doctor to be specific. She had commented on how his cutie mark stood out different to most of the royal guard’s. It seemed very common at first glance, only being a green medical cross painted across his pale orange flank, but on second viewing one may notice there being more to it. A miniature magnifying glass was centred inside it, and every pony who asked what it meant got the same answer as even Watson wasn’t sure why he had it in the first place.

“I bet they’d be a hit.” Twilight added confidently, smiling at Watson as she turned to face him after all the books were back in their spots.

As if by contraction a large smile came across Watson’s face. It had quite some time since he had got on with anypony, after all not even a week had passed by since he first arrived in Ponyville. What made him happier was actually having somepony agree with him too. The military wasn’t a force for sharing opinions at all. “Really?” He asked, almost not believing what he was being told. “It’d be an honour if you could look after them here.” He gave out a slight chuckle as he got a bit ahead of himself. “I’ll have to write the books first, of course. But when...” He paused to think about whether he had much a chance of completing the books. “If it comes to it, I can’t imagine just leaving them lying about my home.”

“It’s no problem, really!” He noticed her cutie mark to be a series of stars, all different shapes and sizes, and although it rang a bell somewhere in his memory. He though back to perhaps hearing a story about the town, but to save any confusion he decided not to bother asking her about it. You’d be surprised just how confined the life of an army doctor could become, to the point even Twilight and her friends’ exploits where unheard of, or dimmed down to just rumour and myth.

She was a Princess though, and a new one at that, meaning she was somepony of immense significance that had and would get up to some adventure. Secretly Watson always wished he could live a life of action, but being a military doctor had put him off quite a bit. During his brief reminiscence of his years of service Twilight noticed his right hoof shaking rather violently for a few seconds, and as his attention returned to her his leg calmed down. Watson caught her look and shook his head, closing his eyes with embarrassment. “It’s nothing.” He reassured with a nervous laugh. “It just... happens sometimes.”

She stared at him with a slight frown, not buying that such an unusual movement is ‘nothing’. After a few awkward moments of Watson dodging her gaze through flipping open a few pages of some odd adventure book, managing to catch the name ‘Daring Do’ on the front cover, she believed she wouldn’t get anything more out of him.

“Like I said;” She said, breaking the silence, “if you manage to finish one I’ll happily keep it safe. After all, just look around!” Twilight spoke proudly, waving her hoof around to signal her vast catalogue. And rightly so! There were many, many books to keep in check. Watson couldn’t imagine a life as a Princess and a lone librarian.

Twilight’s ears suddenly peaked as an afterthought struck her like lightening. “I’ll even set up an exhibition... or a celebration!” She bellowed out, beaming at the thought. “Believe it or not I don’t get many authors visiting here, or Ponyville at all for that matter.”

Watson didn’t look keen at all with this idea. He simply smiled and agreed for the time being, adding “Yes, well... err” in an effort to seem interested. It was short lived, however.

She clapped her hooves together as she thought up her scheme. “And I know just the pink pony to help me...”

It immediately hit Watson that he actually feared a large group of ponies reading something he wrote. He wasn’t the attention seeking type and wouldn’t want any of the ‘fame’ or ‘perks’ that came with a bestseller, if that was even in the question. He hadn’t written anything since he was a colt for Celestia’s sake, so how would a first timer create anything even slightly reputable?

No. He immediately tried to talk her out of it. “No, no that won’t be necessary.” He insisted, waving his hoofs out in resistance. “A place for them to stay will be fabulous; I’ll ask no more than that.” Watson’s tone lowered to a serious and somewhat sad one. “Besides, author’s these days probably lead lives of adventure and mystery. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Ponies always say write about personal experience.” Twilight chimed in, taking the author of Daring Do as her front-most example. “Just go out and get inspired!”

Watson let out a little chuckle, though his tone continued. “I’m not even sure if I’m going to be able to write a single page.”

Twilight’s ears dropped. “Why not?” She asked with concern.

“Because...” He cleared his throat and let out a long sigh. His sad eyes stared into Twilights. “Nothing interesting ever happens to me.”

Not a cloud could be seen in the crystal blue sky as Watson ventured down a street in Ponyville. Everypony was outside, chatting in groups or simply enjoying a walk whilst bathing in the sun’s warmth. The sun rose up to its highest peak in the sky, indicating Watson it was noon.

He had decided the best course of action to get himself better acquainted with the large town was to have a long walk while heading to find some work. The streets in Ponyville were few but very spread out and well connected, which he found helpful. Everything a pony needed could be found on no more than three streets.

As Waston passed the unusually named shops, some advertising the unlikeliest combination of goods, he found himself automatically greeting numerous friendly ponies, each with their own ‘good mornings’ and good wills. Compared to Trottingham where you’d be welcomed by a gaze of death, Ponyville actually knew basic courtesy to folks on the street.

From the distance he spotted a certain pink pony whom he narrowly avoided, dodging her sight through diving around a corner. With a quick glance back he looked to the sky and sighed in relief as she hadn’t noticed him. However, as he thought to himself about the recent event taking place between he and her a few days earlier guilt began to plague his eyes. He recalled his rude treatment of her.

On the first day Watson arrived in Ponyville his mind was set on sour memories from his job, and the aim of providing himself a more peaceful lifestyle. Once he exited the station, his teeth clenched around a burdensome briefcase, and turned a corner he was shocked to meet a pink pony who burst out in close proximity.

A mixture of confetti and song ensued from her surprise welcome. Sadly for the both of them Watson was feeling much too down to join in with such a celebration, so as politely as he could he told her he wasn’t interested in whatever she was selling. Thinking he completely misjudged her reason for being there she tried to explain herself, however things turned bitter when he barged passed her, leaving the energetic pony in the dust.

For now Watson thought it best to leave the matter alone. Even if he did feel like making up he wouldn’t know what to do or say. Therefore the stallion continued down the street he turned onto, and as if Celestia had graced it up ahead Watson could see a vendor selling bouquets of roses, tulips and other sorts of flowers he couldn’t care enough to recognise.

“Huuuh...” He said with a dragged breath, realising now was actually the perfect time for an apology, “How convenient.”
As it wasn’t busy at all Watson approached the stall in a slump, acting like a child having to apologise to a school rival. It was a small vendor, made of wood and easily packable. For a few moments he browsed the flowers before making his somewhat generic decision.

After scratching his blonde mane Watson mustered up the ounce of courage he needed to ask the brown maned stallion.“Roses please.”

The salesman looked up from his newspaper and peered over to his price list. “Five bits.” He said with a grunt before his attention returned to his newspaper which blocked any view of him.

Watson reached into his jumper pocket and retrieved five bits. He threw them onto the counter and waited for the florist to get him the roses, though after a while of waiting he showed no sign of moving. Growing impatient Watson simply picked his own; a beautiful set of white. He set them on his back and began to head off, but a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Hey, you never said white.” The florist shouted with a harsh voice. Either this stallion was looking for a fight, or he wasn’t having a good day. Or probably both. A flush of red flustered the florist’s cream face as he dropped his paper and stared straight into Watson’s eyes.

Watson glared at the florist. “What difference does it make? White are cheaper than red anyway.” The florist grunted and returned to reading his paper. Watson stood there, confused with a frown, trying to work out a decent explanation for what just happened.

Before he could look too mental he headed off back down the main street, searching for the pink pony. To his luck she emerged from inside a bakery.

Sweet smells seeped from every window and door as Watson neared Sugarcube Corner, his mouth watering for one of the treats. Before he went off track and gorged himself in pastry’s he reminded himself of his purpose. Once he felt he was within decent hearing range he called over the mare.

“Excuse me!” He shouted down the street, now trotting passed the bakery. “Excuse me!” He yelled again, this time catching her, and half the streets, attention. “You! Yes!” The mare had caught his eye and a mixed expression came over her. She bore a nervous smile, though Watson ignored it for he bore a nervous smile also.

“Well... um... Hi!” He said kindly, trying to find the right words. “About that incident a few days ago. I’m sorry I pushed you its just... I was in a foul mood and I really wanted to get home. Will you accept my apology?”

A spark glistened in the pink pony’s eyes as she conjured up a grin that covered half her face. “Of course I forgive you!”

“Really?” Watson chuckled in joy. He reached back and presented the bouquet to her. “I... got you these too.” He played with them in his hands for a moment, wondering if he had overdone it, then handed them over. “Just a little bit extra, you know?”

Her face lit up like a lamp as she snatched them out of his hooves and gave them a long sniff. “Oh wow!” She said, literally jumping in joy. Her final leap nearly landed her on a roof, something Watson was taken aback at. “These are beautiful, Mr...”

He snapped out of wondering how she jumped so high and held out a hoof. “Dr Watson. Glad to meet you.”

“Pinkie Pie.” She replied, shaking his hoof with a smile.

Now that was taken care of Watson took a glance down the street and reckoned it was time he’d be off. He wouldn’t survive long without a job, after all. “Anyway Pinkie Pie I need to...err.... head over to the station so I’ll leave you be.” He patted her on the shoulder with a warm smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Pinkie seemed saddened by his sudden requirement to leave, but she quickly regained her enthusiasm. It seemed she was chock full of it. “Yep, I’ll catch ya later!” She said, taking her own leave by hopping off into town.

With a grin Watson took in yet another deep breath of relief and walked towards a large, rectangular building with the sign ‘Royal Yard’ printed above the doorway. It was situated a short ways down the road, the sign making it very easy to spot as it hung high in the street above its doors.

The stallion had nearly reached his destination when he had to look twice at a dark alleyway between two towering houses. He had a tendency to scan every nook and cranny of where he walked, even if he never remembered half of it. This time though he thought he saw a shape in the alleyway, about half way down it. There were no lamps and the houses blocked off any light from the sun, so he couldn’t tell if it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. It looked as if there was a stallion leaning against the wall. But then something else took form. Something on the floor.

Without a second thought Watson bolted towards the opening of the alley, his sudden outburst f speed causing him to only just avoid a collision with a panicking child. As he grew closer the mysterious figure he saw on the ground took more of a familiar shape, while the other shadow seemed to have vanished. Once he entered the shadow of the alley his suspicions were confirmed, causing him to nearly fall over at the horrid sight.

“No, please no, not today...” He muttered as he realised what he had come across; a mare’s body laid against the moist floor with a bloody wound dressing her chest. “S... Ssss...” He could hardly string a single word together as he tried to cry for help. “Somepony! Somepony help! Get the guard!” He finally roared at the top of his voice into the street, attracting the attention of many passer-bys. “Murder for Celestia’s sake, get the guard!” He yelled upon seeing one or two of them gathering round to see the disturbance.

Instantly a rush of hooves galloped to the station, some more panicked than others. Adrenaline kicked into Watson and without thinking his medical days came back to him. He checked her pulse and felt nothing, so without fearing dealing further damage to her he inspected the wound. He tried not to get blood on his hooves but the murder was a messy one, and the blood turned out to be useful when he touched it.

“Blood still warm, meaning it’s recent...” He began, making a mental note of everything he said, “Stabbed through her lung, meaning no scream... eyes still open, clearly shocked...” He leaned in closer as he noticed something odd about the wound itself. “The cut’s jarred, meaning the murderer removed the blade carelessly.” With blood already splattered on his hooves he didn’t mind checking her dripping ears. “Blood running from inside ear, caused by internal head injury, possibly fractured skull due to victim being pushed away or falling? Quick getaway then?” His hoof brushed against a brown paper bag, full of shopping. “Bags of food on floor, so she meant came through here for a short cut then?” He stopped to think.

“Go on.”

Watson’s heart skipped a beat as he realised somepony was looming over him. He jumped up to view a stranger with an intrigued look on his face. He could just make out the stallion’s dark grey coat and curly jet black mane, as well as the scarf around his neck.

He stared at the stranger. “No please, carry on.” He sounded sincere, and on top of that he handed Watson a wipe to clean off the blood from his hooves.

Watson gave a few odd looks from the body to the stranger but he eventually pieced together his theory. “Well from the looks of things this mare usually takes this route as a shortcut when getting her shopping home,” he said, pointing from one end of the alley to the other, “however on this unlucky afternoon she ran into a particularly bad equine. This pony knew their stuff as he or she stabbed her in the lung to prevent her from screaming.

"However, the killer must have seen somepony close by as he quickly pulled the knife out of the body causing the bones around it to move according to the blade, a very unnatural look for a ribcage indeed. The killer then pushed away the body to stop any blood from spurting onto him, therefore causing her skull to fracture as it hit the ground.” Watson handed back the wipe to the stranger, who he thought was an inspector of the guards.

The stranger was impressed, though his cheeky smile said something wasn’t clear. “Well the autopsy is correct.”

“But?”

“Well, an autopsy is pretty basic, isn’t it?” Watson didn’t know what he meant by this, after all many autopsies turn out to be folly and often overlooked. “Surely it’s the murderer’s motive we want if we want to find out who did it?” He recognised his accent as one from Trottingham, probably from a well off part of the city judging from his well spoken manner.

“Sorry, but all I see here is a mugging.” The stranger laughed heartily at this. Watson backed away slightly, unsure of even this pony’s motive. “So what’s your point?”

“Follow me.” He commanded, stern and slightly agitated as if he had better things to do. The grey stallion lead Watson further into the alley and showed him that the path which branches off left leads to a brick wall, whereas to the right an iron gate locked tightly blocks anypony’s escape. “You’ll see there is no exit from this alleyway other than the way you came in. Therefore she can’t have been taking a shortcut, so she must have been lured in. Perhaps it was someone she knew.”

Before Watson’s new acquaintance could continue he halted their little investigation. “Wait just a minute,” he said as the stranger muttered to himself, “who are you?”

The stallion’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “Dr Watson! There is a murder at hand and you are wasting valuable seconds investigating the wrong pony.” He brushed past Watson to the body and held a hoof up, pointing towards the exit. “Now then, if you have nothing further to add could you please remove yourself from the crime scene. It would be greatly appreciated, as is your help so far.” It sounded like he added that last bit in courtesy, as his tone certainly suggested it wasn’t from the heart.

Watson began to leave the alley, but in a last ditch attempt to stay he opened his mouth to argue back. All that left his lungs was the word “How-” before the stranger shouted “Good day!” in an agitated tone.

Watson sighed and exited the alleyway, suspecting the pony must have been an inspector or something. His ears drooped as he walked and he constantly looked back, even locking eyes with the stallion a couple of times in which he panicked for a moment for he was a very intimidating pony. Watson made sure that never showed on the outside, but he knew better than to fight an inspector.

As the sunlight shone against Watson's coat once again he was forced to give way as several guards arrived to answer the calls of murder. “About time.” Watson said to himself, watching them all pass by in disgust. He counted himself lucky that they didn’t catch him touching the body, then there would be real trouble, army doctor or not.

Just before he fully left the scene his ears caught hold of the conversation between the stranger and the inept guards. He caught on that they were asking him what Watson was doing so close to the body, and the stranger’s response gave Watson a reason to smile. “He’s with me.”

Then after a pause he heard the same voice shout again, this time directly addressing himself.

“Dr Watson! Name’s Sherlock Holmes, a pleasure to meet you!”

Author's Note

Hope you all enjoy. The original(ish) author's a friend of mine and we pretty much worked on this together, while he posted it. Anyway its on my account now with quite a bit of editing. Three stories on the go, woo!