Good Job Holmes, Now go Back to Class.
The small dark grey colt repeatedly threw the tennis ball off the wall and bounced it off his hoof, playing a game of one-sided tennis with himself out of boredom. His recent case had been going well until he had hit a roadblock where he was unable to progress. He was trying to solve a case at school where one of the older gir'ls had their mother's locket stolen by one of the stallions in her year. The locket was an extremely valuable piece of golden jewellery that had as much sentimental value as it did monetary. He had been working the case for three days and had not yet reached a breakthrough. At the same time he had not received any help from the teachers or children at school.
"But what was I expecting though?" Sherlock sighed to himself "Almost all of the children at school have the intelligence level of an amoeba... I would expect them to get lost in a two-by-five bathroom never mind be able to solve a crime" The roadblock in his investigation was that his evidence was inconclusive and he couldn't present it to anypony without them casting it aside. He had a suspect who he was planning to question the next day but was unable to get him alone and record the confession on a tape. He needed the tape to get a solid piece of evidence that he could hand into the teachers or, if that failed, the police. No matter which way he looked at it there was nothing in his power he could do to get his suspect alone and get him to confess. His suspect wasn't the brightest of folks so he knew that he would be able to trick him into admitting he took the locket but without a time to get him alone there would be no way to get him to confess.
"One can take a horse to water" Sherlock recited to himself "But one cannot make him drink... but if one has a large group, could one get the leader to show an example?" As Sherlock went over the thought in his head he caught the tennis ball and set it down on his bed. As an idea dawned his eyes widened in surprise.
"I don't need to get him alone to confess..." he said, leaping up off his bed and onto his carpet floor. He ran his hoof through his thick, black mane and began to pace the room, chattering to himself.
"I need to get him in a crowd. If I put the pressure on him when he's in front of a pack... yes, I know that lesser minds always seek to appeal to their peers and if I can back him into a corner, metaphorically of course, I can get him to panic" Sherlock decided "And if I word it in a certain way that outclasses him I should be able to get him to slip up and I can catch him out in front of everyone" Sherlock grinned widely as he nodded his head, quickening his pacing to an almost dashing level.
"But I need a way to get him in front of his friends but also in front of teachers. But another problem is that I can't be in one of his lessons without a good reason and seeing as how nopony takes me serious enough to let me interview him during a lesson. With lesson time out of the equation it needs to be in a place where we're all gathered together, somewhere like the basketball courts. How would I get everypony there though? Ummm... of course! The fire alarm that was installed last week. If I can trigger that without anypony noticing me and get to the courts in time to question him I can get him to confess within range of the teachers!" Sherlock exclaimed "Yes, that's brilliant. I am incredible!"
Sherlock sat with his back resting against the wall with his notebook on the ground in front of him. With a pencil in his mouth he jotted down his last few investigation notes during the last few minutes of his free lesson before the bell rang out loudly, signalling the end of morning lessons. He tucked the small black book into his black peacoat pocket and walked into the crowd of larger and smaller schoolchildren. He waited till the older children came out of their double lessons before sneaking over to the fire alarm, being hidden in the crowd of taller ponies, and pulling down on the small lever. There was a second of silence before the new steel bell began to ring loudly. There were groans of anger and annoyance from the other ponies before the teachers stuck their heads out of their classrooms and began to direct the other ponies outside to the basketball courts, each of them being as irritated by the fire alarm as the schoolchildren. With a quick scan of the environment he was in Sherlock was able to identify his suspect in a crowd of his other friends. He was a yellow pegasus with a spiked-up orange mane and green eyes. He wore his regular sports kit of a white shirt and black shorts.
"Alright Holmes" Sherlock smirked to himself "Here's another simpleton nut ready to be cracked and cooked just like all the others" He quickly ducked back into the crowd and blended in with them until they had reached the courts where they were told to get into the lines of their tutor groups before the register was taken. It was then Holmes made his move, moving out of his line and heading over to the line where his suspect was standing.
"Excuse me?" he called out to the taller stallion "Backlash isn't it?" The yellow stallion turned around and looked at Sherlock with a cocked eyebrow.
"Do I know you?" he asked.
"I wouldn't expect you to" Sherlock said with a pseudo-polite tone "We're both from very different backgrounds. But I'll be the gentlecolt here. My name is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes"
"Are you serious?" Backlash asked with a ridiculing tone "Like the British guy from those old books, you're named after him?" Backlash turned around to his friends and they started laughing and making gestures of smoking pipes and mocking Sherlock's English accent.
"Elementary my dear Watson" Backlash scoffed "Anypony want some tea and crumpets gov'na?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I was named after the world's greatest detective" Sherlock nodded with a friendly expression with a contrasting cynical smile "But I would say that while my name represents and embodies me quite well I would say yours does too"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Backlash asked in confusion.
"What I mean is that while Sherlock represents my personality I would think your mother knew that your own name, Backlash, would be prophetic for what she and your father would receive when their friends found out about you" Sherlock said, locking eyes with the older stallion. There's was a chorus of 'Ooh' from Backlash's friends and the yellow stallion quickly became aggressive.
"You better have a good reason for coming over here and annoying me kid and you better get on with it before I kick your runt ass back over to the other ankle-biters over there" Backlash hissed furiously.
"Of course, I got sidetracked on the topic of parental regret" Sherlock grinned, dusting his hoof on his chest "I'm here to ask you a few questions about a case I'm working on" Backlash looked at Sherlock with an expression of utter disbelief and he remained speechless for a long moment.
"Are... are you joking right now?" he asked "Because you can't be serious"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Sherlock asked, tilting his head slightly.
"Your name is Sherlock Holmes, you're English and you're asking me questions on a case you're working on?" Backlash listed, shaking his head in complete disbelief "There is no way in hell you are actually being serious right now!"
"I'm being very serious my friend, now what I came to ask you about was an item that was stolen from a girl in your year, a girl by the name of Sunny Smiles" Sherlock began "I have reason to believe that you know something about the item that was stolen from her and I would like you to tell me anything you think would help me find it" Backlash laughed once more in disbelief, looking back at his friends before speaking to Sherlock with his head lowered to the smaller stallion.
"Look Sherlock, or if that's even your real name, I'm not playing along with your stupid little game any more so you can just go ahead and piss off back to your year group alright?" Backlash said quietly. Backlash turned around and signalled to his friends that they were going to move further back into the line to leave Sherlock there before the colt spoke up.
"Where are you going Backlash?" he asked "You're not leaving because you've got something to hide are you?"
"Have fun by yourself kid" Backlash called back.
"Wow, I never thought a stallion tough enough to steal from girls would be such a coward" Sherlock responded, attempting to bait Backlash into continuing the conversation. And it worked flawlessly. Backlash immediately turned around and glared at the smaller pony with a furious look in his eyes.
"I'm not a coward, kid" Backlash said "And I didn't steal anything"
"Alright, I'll humour you, why didn't you steal anything Backlash?" Sherlock asked, shifting his weight between his legs as he stood still.
"For one, I wasn't even in school the day that chick's crap was stolen and secondly I don't believe in stealing from anypony, especially chicks" Backlash said with a proud expression. There was a moment of silence between the two of them before Sherlock spoke quietly.
"You're a liar" he said simply. Backlash gritted his teeth angrily and he paced over to Sherlock with a threatening look.
"What the hell did you just call me?" he demanded.
"What?" Sherlock asked in a puzzled tone "You're not deaf and dumb as well are you?" His strategy at this point was to try and get Backlash angry enough to lead him into a trap that he would be too irritated to see and then crack down on him with a bit of fancy wording. So far the approach was working well and it was obvious that Backlash was starting to lose his complexion.
"You better shut up kid... before I make you" he hissed, a vein on the side of his head beginning to stand out as his anger levels rose.
"Why don't you just come out an say it already?" Sherlock asked with a calm and friendly grin that was meant to only anger Backlash further "You found out about Sunny's prize possession and you decided to steal it there and then"
"I already told you-" Backlash began before he was cut off by Sherlock, now on a roll as he started circling Backlash. it was at this moment that the others started to take notice of the event playing out before them and, most importantly, so did the teachers.
"I already know that you stole it Backlash, the only thing that puzzles me at this point is what you did with it" Sherlock said, glaring at Backlash "Did you keep it under your bed? Or did you take it down to the pawn shop and pawn it off for a new pair of Nike shorts? Or did you trade it to your friends for a less-than-legal substance?" Backlash had become visually infuriated at this point and one of the teachers looked ready to intervene before the headmaster stepped in front of him and told them to keep still.
"How many fu-" was all the accused was able to say before he was once again interrupted.
"How much did it sell for friend, did you get a shiny watch for it, or was it worth enough to get a few new action figures? Or... did you get money for a cat burglar starter kit to make a career out of this?" Sherlock questioned with a faux-surprised expression "Come on Backlash, we're all on the edge of our seats right now so just hurry up and tell us what you did with the stolen commodity?"
"I didn't steal the fucking locket you little shit-head!" Backlash roared in fury. It was at this point Sherlock sat down quickly and whooped loudly in joy with his head leaning back.
"Now when in the wild and weary expanse of time did I tell you that it was a locket that was stolen?" Sherlock said with beaming blue eyes and an enormous grin. Backlash opened his mouth to respond before the realization hit him and his anger fizzled out immediately.
"I-uh... I heard about it the other day" Backlash said, his eyes locked onto the ground.
"What day Backlash?" Sherlock asked.
"Uhm... T-Tuesday" he stammered.
"Really?" Sherlock asked with a cocked eyebrow "You just said that you weren't in school on Tuesday which, funnily enough, was the same day the locket was stolen and if I'm right, which I almost always am, I think you've been telling fibs this entire time"
"I-it wasn't... I never..." Backlash muttered before the headmaster placed a hoof on the smaller pony's shoulder.
"I think you need to come with me to my office Backlash, I'll be calling your parents and I think I might call the police too" he said. He began to lead Backlash away who had been reduced to a sobbing heap at this point before he turned to Sherlock.
"Good job Master Holmes" he said with an expressionless face.
"You're welcome sir" the grey colt said with a smirk.
"Yes, good job Holmes, now go back to class" he said with a curt nod "And I'll be calling your mother about the fact you set of the fire alarm"
"But... I just solved a crime!" Holmes exclaimed in disbelief.
"And you also broke school rules" the headmaster countered "I'll see you in my office after this class and I'll make sure your mother is present too, are we clear?" Sherlock sighed loudly and sat down again, hanging his head with a disheartened expression in his eyes, the bright light that was in them moments earlier had now completely vanished.
"Holmes, are we clear?" he repeated.
"Crystal Sir" Sherlock answered as he took out his black notebook and after drawing a pencil line through the name of the case he jotted down the phrase 'Closed and Uncredited' next to it followed by a number that represented the amount of times he had written that particular phrase down. This brought the total to fifteen cases he had received no credit for. And now he had a new phrase to right down: 'Closed and Cautioned'
The Killings at Canterlot Castle
"We're very sorry for having to call you away from your work Mrs Holmes" the headmaster, an older stallion by the name of Adrian Potter. He was a tall stallion with a greying dark brown mane and a light brown body. He wore a dark grey suit with a waistcoat and a black tie and wore a pair of thin spectacles.
"Its alright Mr Potter" Mrs Holmes, or Clara as she was known to her friends said "What's Sherlock in trouble for now?"
"Setting off the recently-installed fire alarm to gather everyone into the outside courts" Mr Potter said with a heavy sigh, casting a dry look at Sherlock who was currently sitting with his eyes flicking back and forth across the page of the notebook he held as he scribbled furiously into it.
"OK... why?" Clara asked slowly, the question being directed equally at both of them.
"So he could continue to play his detective games" Mr Potter answered with a small shake of his head before his point was refuted.
"Actually, Sir, I was doing my job by helping other people" Sherlock snapped with an angry expression, closing his notebook and tucking it back into his pocket.
"Holmes, you're six years old, kids your age don't have any other job besides to play in the sandbox and pretend sticks are swords" Mr Potter said.
"Did you ever consider that maybe even though I am a child I don't act like one and I don't want to?" Sherlock asked in an almost mocking tone.
"Sherlock, that's enough of that" Clara snapped at her son "Watch your tone" Sherlock locked eyes with his mother for a long second before the small colt dropped his gaze and fell silent, grating his teeth in irritation. After a moment of silence, Clara moved her eyes off her son and looked back at the headmaster with a more polite expression.
"Seeing as how you wouldn't be calling me in to school if Sherlock was going to be given just a detention, I'm guessing the punishment is going to be more severe?" Clara asked with a perked eyebrow.
"I'm afraid so Mrs Holmes" Mr Potter nodded "We're afraid that we have to exclude Sherlock for a period of time"
"What!?" Sherlock exclaimed in outrage, slamming his hoof down on the wooden desk in front of him and baring his teeth in a furious expression "Do you have any clue what I managed to do by setting off that alarm!?"
"Yes Holmes, I know that you disrupted lessons for everypony in the school and publicly humiliated one of our star athletes in the school" Mr Potter said as he maintained his ever-calm demeanour and with a wave of his hoof towards Sherlock he continued to speak "As I'm sure you're well aware Inspector Holmes, if a detective had pulled a move like yourself then they would have been reprimanded and most likely suspended for breaking code of conduct and gaining a confession through unconventional means"
"I did what I needed to to find out who stole Sunny's locket and have it returned to her" Sherlock glared, tapping his hoof angrily on the desk "I could've gotten a confession out of him to begin with if you'd just cooperated with me Mr Potter" There was another moment of silence before Mr Potter adjusted his tie and moved his eyes on Clara.
"Is he like this at home?" he asked. Clara looked at her son for a brief moment before turning her head back to the headmaster and nodding slowly.
"He has this constant fantasy that he'll grow up to become a legendary detective and he likes to think that he's waiting for his big break-out case" Clara explained.
"Are there any... influential figures that he's been introduced to throughout the years that would cause him to develop this belief?" Mr Potter asked, leaning back in his chair and placing his hooves together with his elbows resting on the desk.
"I think it started when he found the first Sherlock Holmes book in the library near our home when he was a few months old, ever since he read that he's wanted to be a detective" Clara responded.
"I take it the name Sherlock Holmes came from your liking of the series?" Mr Potter questioned.
"Not mine, his father's" Clara said with a shake of her head.
"Ah... were the books the inspiration for your Sherlock to begin speaking with an English accent?" Mr Potter queried.
"No, when Sherlock was first learning to speak we lived in an English colony and because I was the only one there who spoke with an Equestrian accent Sherlock picked up all of his speech patterns and mannerisms from the other children and adults that spoke to him" Clara detailed "I met his father on the same colony as he was in service to the Queen at the time so Sherlock has both Equestrian and English heritage"
"And besides the Sherlock Holmes books were there any other detective mystery novels that Sherlock enjoyed?" Mr Potter asked, getting back onto the topic of Sherlock's detective phase.
"Well, when he was three he picked up the first Palesbrook Detective novels and read all of them within a week of them being released" Clara confirmed "He's currently waiting for the newest instalment to be released this year" The two adults seemed ready to continue speaking before Sherlock growled angrily, glaring at both of them before speaking.
"If you two are going to continue talking about this useless drivel then I'm just going to go home myself" he snapped "I didn't come here to listen to you two drone on about subjects you know nothing about" And with that Sherlock hopped down off the chair and stormed out of the room.
Sherlock had climbed into the top branches of a large willow tree to rise above the late-afternoon fog that hung around in the wooden areas of Canterlot and was eagerly reading through the fourth instalment of the Palesbrook Detective novel entitled My Dark Desire. He had gotten up to the part where the killer, an unnamed and unrevealed character at this point, had just killed his latest victim: the Palesbrook guard Captain Bright Shields, who was based on the current Equestrian captain Shining Armour, and had left his body tied to a waterwheel outside the wheat mill for the detective in the book, Quincy Knowles, to find with one of his tags: a copper crow's head stuffed in the captain's mouth with the victim's eyeballs slashed.
"Undeniably gruesome" Sherlock nodded to himself as he turned over the page to see what the killer did next in the novel. He was ready to continue reading when there was a loud snapping sound followed by what sounded like a strangled scream from further into the woodland. Sherlock slowly lowered the book and gazed in the direction the sound had come from. He knew that if he was anypony else he would've simply to put the noise down to his imagination, but he knew better than that. Especially when the next sound was a much clearer scream followed by the sound of something sharp being embedded into flesh. Sherlock stuffed his book into his bag and quickly descended the tree before dropping the final four feet to the ground. He set of at a quick walk but as the sound of scream after scream fell onto his ears he began to sprint forwards. Within a matter of seconds Sherlock burst into a clearing in the forest just in time to see a large, hooded figure blitz away into the trees and, upon looking at the ground, seeing a red-covered lump in the fog. Sherlock bounded over to the moaning lump to see a stallion who appeared to be in his late thirties with a simple black suit on and a slicked back grey mane.
"H-Help m-me..." he moaned, reaching up with a slashed and blood-soaked hoof and grabbing hold of Sherlock's chest. In the process he smeared his black coat with mud-mixed blood before retching blood onto the ground beside him. Sherlock forced down the panic he felt inside him and reminded himself that when this stallion's life was saved he could then begin to feel sick.
"Try to keep still" Sherlock ordered, grabbing hold of the stallion's sleeve and tearing it off. He knew that the first thing he needed to do was to try and slow down the blood flow coming from the stallion's wrist. After a quick inspection Sherlock discovered that not only were both of his wrists were slashed, the tendons in his back legs as well as his throat had been cut. The horror dawned on Sherlock that several vital arteries in the stallion's limbs and also his jugular had been severed and because of the nature of the injuries the stallion had less than two minutes before he bled out right in front of him. In his last few minutes the stallion seemed to notice that something was wrong and he continued scrambling to grab hold of Sherlock, further staining him with dark blood.
"Help m-m-e... please!" he begged, tears flowing down his face and mixing into the blood. Sherlock struggled to understand his cries due to the fact his wind-pipe had been slashed and he was drowning in his own blood. The stallion thrashed around painfully for several moments longer before his body became limb and his limbs settled as the life left him. The blood pool around him ceased expanding and the forest became quiet once more, save for Sherlock's adrenaline-fuelled breathing.
"Dammit" Sherlock hissed, punching the soaked dirt by his side in frustration. He looked over the body for a long second before slowing down his breathing and talking to himself.
"Alright Holmes, you know what to do now" he said to steady himself "Examine the body for any form of identification or next of kin, possible documents to tell you where he was earlier or what he might have been doing" He continued to mutter to himself as he went through the pockets of the corpse as gently and respectfully as possible, half out of decency and half out of a need to preserve the body. Upon reaching into his inner jacket pocket his hoof fell onto the items that he quickly removed and examined. The first was a tweed wallet that was stained with blood, the second was a small black notebook, similar to his own and the third was a sealed plastic bag with a large amount of metal bobby pins in the bottom.
"OK, start with the wallet Holmes" he said as he unfastened the tweed wallet and opened. The first thing he noticed was that the wallet was bulging with the newly-introduced form of paper currency with images of each of the princesses on separate bills. The stallion appeared to be quite well off due to the fact he was carrying several large wads of hundred bit bills that, upon closer inspection, appeared to be unsigned yet genuine. He set the money back inside the wallet before removing a national insurance number with the stallion's name, age and home address printed on it. The insurance number was also a new policy that had been introduced a few years prior to allow employers to get a brief introduction to possible candidates for hire and also for reasons like this; to allow police officers to find out the identity of whoever was carrying the card.
"A Mr Joe Bloggs, thirty-six with the address of twenty-nine Cassidy Avenue in the... Residential District of Canterlot?" Holmes read aloud to himself "Well that explains why he's carrying so much money, he's from a pretty well-off background from the looks of this wallet... now what's in the notebook?" Sherlock put the wallet down next to the body and opened the notebook to discover that it was filled to the brim with price quotes, names and what looked like code words. After flicking through several of the pages he noticed a pattern in the code words used. They were either abbreviations of shortenings of other words. Some of the most common appearances were the words HLT, HM and PPTY. After examining the prices and names of each of the individual things written down next to these code words he realized that they were insurance quotes. HLT was most likely health insurance, HM could also be home insurance and PPTY might've been property or possessions. The last leaned further towards being possessions as to his knowledge home insurance and property insurance were nearly the same thing, give or take a few fine details.
"Looks like Mr Bloggs here was quite the successful little insurance broker, almost all of the names here have ticks next to them... and that probably means a sale to a gullible sucker" Sherlock hummed quietly before closing the notebook and placing it back on the ground. Finally he opened the bag of bobby pins and examined them with scrutiny.
"Now what would he be doing with these?" he pondered "I know you can pick locks with these puppies but I don't see any picks on him... maybe he wasn't picking anything more complicated then a two-pin tumbler lock" Sherlock continued to think for several minutes before a loud snapping sound caught his attention. He whirled around with his ears perked to see somepony, no, several someponies bounding towards him dressed in blue uniforms. With a sigh of relief he stood up and relaxed slightly, beginning to walk towards them and engaging in conversation.
"Oh, I thought you lot were-" he began to say before he saw a bright blue glow off in the trees. It was only his suspicion of everypony that stopped him from being blasted by a bolt of what looked like paralysis magic as he dived into a backwards roll and the blast exploded at the ground where he was once standing.
"Whoa!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Stop right there criminal!" one of the police officers roared at him "You're under arrest!" Sherlock could tell from the shot they had just fired that they weren't willing to listen to what he had to say. By the skin of his teeth he managed to avoid another volley of blasts by keeping low to the ground and after swiftly stuffing the back of bobby pins into his blood-soaked pocket he turned tail and began to sprint out of the brush and into the trees. He heard a police whistle being blown behind him, followed by several more, as the police officers gave chase. Sherlock knew that among his peers he was a fairly fast individual but against fully grown stallions with heavy physical training and much longer strides he had no hope of outrunning them. His only option was to get the group to split up and try to lose them in the brush. He could hear one of the more athletic stallions gaining ground on him and quickly closing the gap between the two of them. Sherlock's eyes scanned the brush and a tree with a short trunk that split into several thicker ones was off to his right seemed to light up a faint yellow for him. Not willing to question this seemingly strange ability he veered off to the left with his fastest side step. As he got closer and closer to the tree the world seemed to slow down around him. His saw lines beginning to appear in between the branches and trunks which, using his greater intelligence, he worked out in less than a second. After judging his own physical capabilities as well as his height-and-weight ratio he deduced that if he went through the brush at a steep angle he would be able to clear the jump, make it through the seemingly tight space and land back onto his hooves with a simple corkscrew manoeuvre. Another bonus was that if he did this move without the police officers figuring it out with him the splaying trunk would force at least two of them to slow down and have to either walk around them or make their way through slowly which would give him extra ground on them once more.
"Come on Holmes" he whispered to himself, lining himself up perfectly and leaping forward, pushing off with his right hoof last to be able to turn in mid-air. He soon discovered that his angle was slightly off and his right back leg struck the bark of the tree trunk and he was thrown off balance. he landed in a pile of leaves heavily on his shoulder but at a good enough angle to be able to roll back to his hooves without losing too much speed. Without looking back he was able to deduce that his diversion strategy was successful and what he gathered was two of the pursuing officers were forced to come to a stop and lose their position while the others who were further behind them saw the trick and managed to avoid it by veering around the tree trunks.
"Alright... now let's see what else I can get them with" Sherlock chuckled. He looked around the tree line for anything he could use to get above them without having to stop and climb up a tree and once again his eyes pointed out a slanted tree with thick branches that, conveniently, extended over a large creek that was filled with murky water that was flowing rapidly. Above the tree line he could see that last light of the day shining down over Canterlot Castle. Deciding then was not the time to get distracted he shook the thought from his head and moved towards the tree with the intention to jump the gap he would never be able to normally.
"A murder victim right outside the castle grounds?" Sherlock asked himself as he put on an extra burst of speed "Its not everyday there's a killing at Canterlot Castle" As soon as Sherlock uttered the line to himself he realized that that particular sentence had an almost striking resemblance to the name of the third chapter in the first Palesbrook detective novel: The Killings at Courtwall Castle. With that in mind Sherlock began to connect the previously unnoticed dots, the murder victim had been killed in the same way as the first victim of the killer in the novel, their throat and wrists slashed in a clearing in the forest outside a castle. Sherlock had become so wrapped up in his thoughts that he failed to notice he had slowed down slightly and allowed the most fit of the officers gain enough ground behind him to line up another paralysis blast that hit Sherlock's back leg just as he went to make the jump. The blast made contact and Sherlock's leg went limp immediately and he quickly went over the edge and down into the shore of the creek. His back slammed hard into pebble-filled shore and he roared in pain, feeling as if several of his ribs had become bruised from the impact.
"Cole!" he heard one of the officers yell "Get the handcuffs ready, I think he's injured!"
"Handcuffs?" Sherlock thought, thinking through every possible escape method he could before something struck him. A simple lock could be picked easy with the bobby pins he had in his pocket. He knew that they were going to search his jacket before they arrested and booked him so they weren't going to do any good in his pocket. Before the other officers appeared over the cliff next to the creek he grabbed a single bobby pin out of the bag and placed it between his right gum and his cheek in a way that wouldn't slur his speech or be noticeable. He would have to try his best not to swallow it while he was being lead to wherever they were going to take him to and he also hoped that it wouldn't drop out if they got rough while transporting him. He dropped his hooves back down to his sides and groaned in pain, pretending to be barely conscious as the police officers jumped down into the creek and ran over to him.
