Chapter two: Here's the Doctor!
Watson’s questions were answered when another pony with a hooded cloak covering his face walked into the room. He was very huge. Each big step he took echoed off of the wooden floor. He was much bigger than the others, a horn sticking out of his cloak. The horn glowed in a similar blackness that was around Watson.
Watson could only watch as the new visitor surveyed the room. He didn’t say anything as he walked closer to Watson.
Then he raised his hoof and uncovered his face. He had white fur and a white mane. It was odd that his aura was black. Speaking of odd, his horn was considerably bigger than the other unicorn horns that Watson had seen before.
He finally spoke in a deep, slow talking, Russian accent, “You did all this?” he looked around at all the ponies on the floor below him.
Watson answered while still being held against the wall. “No, it was your men who came in here and tried to kill me!”
The white unicorn chuckled. “Believe me, Sherlock, I would kill myself if these were my men.” He pointed at the floor.
Did he say Sherlock? That's what Watson heard. But the only ponies who were convinced Watson’s name was Sherlock is Colgate and that pegasus that talked to him at the bank! That little snitch!
One of the ponies pushed himself up a few inches. He had a black eye and a missing tooth. He held out a knife and managed to say, “Bruce, use this,” he coughed, “to kill him.”
The white unicorn who was apparently named Bruce snapped the knife out of the pony's hooves and threw it back on the floor sticking up. He said, “No! I'm not killing him.”
“But master said…”
“I know what he said and I'm not doing it!”
The other pony didn't have enough strength to argue. He just laid his head back on the floor and remained quiet.
Bruce leaned in close to Watson. “You're lucky I was assigned to kill you, Sherlock, because I'm not really the ‘killing’ type.”
Watson didn't do anything.
Then Bruce caught a glimpse of his dying comrades. He started, “I hear there’s another pony that you work with. What was his name?”
“Watson,” Watson answered.
“Oh yeah!” It was very hard for Bruce to sound happy with his deep Russian accent. He continued, “We don't want him to get in our way either.” Bruce paused. “Where is he?”
Watson folded his hooves and didn't answer.
“No?” Bruce said. “Alright then.”
Bruce quickly picked up the knife he threw on the ground and stabbed Watson. He had no time to react. Bruce said, “We have ways of making you talk,” as he took the knife out of Watson's stomach. Watson tried to yell out in pain, but Bruce closed his mouth shut with his magic.
Bruce released his levitation on Watson and he fell to the floor, clutching his stomach. The pain was unbearable. Watson could hardly breath. He gritted his teeth.
“Oh, you thought I wasn't a killing type?” Bruce sounded like he was joking. He put a hoof on Watson’s shoulder and his horn started to glow. A black spear appeared around Watson and then his gaping wound started to glow in a similar dark light. Watson’s entire body felt a small chill and, somehow, the pain was gone. Watson lifted his hooves off his stomach. There was blood on his hooves, but no wound on his body. Did Bruce heal him?
The stallion put more pressure on his hoof that was on top of Watson. “Well I'm not. That was a torture technique. Now tell me where this Watson fellow is or I'll stab you again!”
Watson, relieved he didn't have to go through the pain of a knife stab anymore said, “I don't know.”
“You don't know?” Bruce clarified.
Watson nodded and the enormous unicorn rolled his eyes.
He picked up the knife and stabbed Watson again in the same spot. He released the knife and Watson clenched his stomach. Breathing became more and more difficult. Watson saw Bruce just standing there holding his bloody knife. He was waiting. He was taking more time to heal Watson. Celestia, it hurt so bad.
But Watson didn't give in. He went through the agonizing pain that would kill him if he didn’t do anything about it. Bruce eventually healed him again and Watson started breathing vigorously, thirsting for the air that he couldn't get when he was injured.
“Don’t lie to me, Sherlock!” Bruce yelled out. “Tell me where he is!”
He stabbed Watson again. This time, he flipped Watson over onto his back and attacked him there. Bruce continued, “If you don't tell me where he is he will DIE tomorrow. I'm wasn’t assigned to kill him, it's somepony else’s job. So they will be less lenient to spare his life.”
Watson just struggled to stay alive himself under the circumstances.
“When I heal you, you will tell me where he is, understand?”
Watson didn't change anything he was already doing. A black spear surrounded Watson for a third time and his knife wound started to glow.
The pain went away immediately, but Watson was still gasping for air because he got very little when he was injured.
Bruce waited for an answer. Watson managed to choke out, “You-you underestimate Watson.” Watson started gasping again, “Nopony can just go and kill him.”
Bruce sighed, “Alright. If you want your friend dead, then fine with me.” Bruce enchanted Watson's body and then started to walk away. Was he leaving?
Watson started to move away from the floor. Nope, Bruce was taking Watson with him. Watson started to scream out, but then his mouth got closed shut. The stallion glared at him.
Bruce closed his eyes and a ball of black light formed around each of the injured ponies on Watson’s floor. He was healing all of them at once. They were eventually all healed and they picked up their weapons. Still keeping a hold on Watson, Bruce opened his eyes and started breathing heavily. It was a very exhausting spell to use over and over.
One of them caught a glimpse of Watson’s almost empty five gallon jug of bits and said, “Look, Bruce. I say we help ourselves to some change on a job well done!” He picked up one of Watson bits and held it up to stare at it.
Bruce enchanted the coin in the ponies hoof and shoved it down his throat. The pony choked on it and eventually had to swallow. Bruce said, “Are you kidding? The way Sherlock kicked all of your butts was embarrassing! He doesn’t even have a single scratch on him! And he was asleep!”
All the hooded ponies looked down and kicked their hooves on the floor.
The pony who swallowed the coin asked, “What are you going to do with him if you aren't killing him?”
“I'm taking him back to the base. I'll put him in the dungeon somewhere. You there,” he pointed to a pony straight in front of him. “Put the note on Sherlock’s bed.” The pony followed his orders and headed towards Watson’s bed.
Watson gulped and was continued to be carried out of his room. Bruce went downstairs and Watson could see Sherlock sleeping on his couch. If only he could yell out, then Sherlock would beat all of these guys up again. Thankfully, nopony else saw the sleeping Sherlock.
“Outside.” said Bruce and he headed out the front door. The rest of the crew followed.
Bruce walked to a flat grassy spot on Watson’s front yard. The rest of the group gathered closer. Bruce said, “Is everypony ready?”
They all nodded and he turned to Watson. Bruce took out a sack from his cloak and put it over Watson's head. His world went dark.
Then Watson felt movement. It was a strange feeling, really. His body tingled and the floor hardened.
The sack was taken off Watson and he saw that he was no longer in his front yard. He had been teleported. Bruce had teleported him. He had teleported everypony
The new place was very dark and cold. The floors were hard and the walls were a rough dark purple. They looked almost like they were made of stone.
So this was the dungeon/base.
All the ponies took off their hoods revealing their faces. Watson immediately realized how odd it was that they all had the same fur color. Light black, but not grey. They were all earth ponies too. “They could be siblings,” Watson supposed, “but I’ve never heard of a mom giving birth to septuplets.” The one that swallowed Watson’s bit stepped forward and said, “Master isn't going to be happy when I tell him you're keeping Sherlock in the base.”
“That's why you won’t remember a thing about all this.”
Before Bruce could explain his horn glowed and everyponies head became encased in a similar black color. Their eyes flashed bright colors. First green, then yellow and then a bright white. He was erasing their memories. After a good ten seconds, the glowing faded.
All the ponies blinked and shook their head to focus. One of them said, “Okay, Bruce, let's teleport to Sherlock’s house and kill him!” the pony held up a baton that was in his hooves.
“Already done,” said Bruce. “I used a spell that can kill anypony from a distance. He never saw it coming.”
The pony smiled, then frowned. He said, “Why haven't you been using that before?”
“Um, I just found out about it. And you can only use it once in your entire life,” he lied.
The pony smiled and nodded his head. “Oh…” he said. “Who's that?” he pointed at Watson who had been standing behind Bruce the entire time.
“He’s your annoying cousin and doesn't want to talk to you anymore.”
“Oh.” He said with sadness in his voice.
Bruce lightly chuckled. “Alright, tell master Sherlock is dead. I'll escort your cousin away.
“Yes, sir.” the pony saluted. The other ponies followed his example. Then the first pony backed away and up some stairs that had light at the exit. The door was in the ceiling so the entire dungeon was probably hidden by a trap door.
Once everypony was gone, Bruce turned and said, “follow me,” to Watson
Watson supposed he could have made a run for it, but he wouldn't get far before Bruce caught him, so he just followed his kidnapper. Down the dark, cold dungeon.
Bruce and Watson turned a corner and Watson gasped when he saw another pony down here. He was inside a prison cell. The door was a large hole in the wall with thick, iron bars covering the exit. The rest of the prison walls were matching, dark purple walls just like the rest of the dungeon. The pony inside had light, brown colored fur and a brown mane that looked exactly like Watson’s. Watson also spotted an hourglass cutie mark on his flank.
Bruce chuckled, “Do you recognize him, Sherlock?”
“Sherlock?” the British accented stallion said behind his prison bars. He sounded like he didn’t believe that Watson was Sherlock.
“I can see the family resemblance,” said Bruce.
Family resemblance? Bruce thought that Watson was Sherlock. The only family that Sherlock had was...his brother, Dr. Whooves. The one who ran away from home when Sherlock was little and changed his last name.
“Um,” Doctor began, “brother, you’ve...changed.” he went with.
“Alright, I’ll let you catch up on your family time after we hide you Sherlock.” said Bruce. “Follow me.”
Bruce and Watson walked past Dr. Whooves’s cell and went to an adjacent one next to it. Bruce enchanted the prison bars and they slid up into the ceiling. Watson looked up at it and wondered where the bars went. Bruce took a serious tone, “in.” Watson wished he could fight back now. If only he had a weapon. Instead, he simply glared back at Bruce. With a slightly angry expression, Watson walked slowly into the cell. Once his entire body was inside, he heard the bars come back down behind him and knew he was officially trapped. He turned and faced Bruce, still with his slightly angry expression written on his muzzle. Bruce didn’t catch on to how angry Watson was.
Bruce backed away and spoke like he was talking to a friend, “Now, if master comes down then you better shut it.” He backed away to the shelf that was leaning on one of the dark purple walls. He started looking for something on it. “If he finds out you’re alive then he’ll kill me.” He grabbed a folded up white sheet and smiled. “And you too.” he pointed at Watson with his white sheet. “So I’m going to cover your cell up with this.”
He started to unfold the sheet. It was still white, but Bruce seemed proud about it. “This is something I like to call an iguana blanket. It can change its color and texture to whatever it’s on.”
Bruce walked towards Watson’s cell and hung up the white sheet so it covered the entire entrance. Watson couldn’t see the dungeon through the bars anymore because of it.
The blanket made some crackling noises. Watson could see the white side of the blanket forming a rough texture.
When the crackling sound stopped Watson heard Dr. Whooves say, “That’s amazing. It looked like nothing’s there. Like it’s just another wall.”
“It is good, isn’t it?” Bruce agreed. “How are you doing in there, Sherlock?” He said at a louder volume.
“I’m fine.” Watson shouted back.
“Note, Sherlock, that the sheet doesn’t block sound. So what are you going to do if master comes down?”
Watson sighed, “Shut it.”
Bruce said happily, “Good! Now I got to go.”
“What about food?” Watson said.
“Huh?”
“What about food! What am I going to eat? You can’t let me starve!”
“Oh, uh. I’ll bring you something for breakfast. Thanks for reminding me.”
Watson sighed again. If he could flip Bruce off, he would. But Bruce couldn’t see him.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” said Bruce. “Just continue sleeping and pretend you were never kidnapped.”
Watson knew that was never going to happen. The cell was empty. No bed or windows (or toilet) and it was very cold. Watson could already see the goosebumps forming on his hooves.
He heard the squeak of a trap door opening. But it sounded as if somepony was actually walking down instead of up.
Watson could heard Bruce say, “Master. Do you need anything?”
Silence continued. Then Watson heard 'master' talk. He didn't have a very deep voice like Bruce and he sounded smaller than him. He said calmly, “Bruce? What are you doing down here?”
“Um, I thought I heard the prisoner escape, sir.”
More silence.
“So, you're trying to leave, are ya?” the master's voice echoed throughout the dungeon. Watson did as he was told and shut it.
“No, I was just complaining that I don't get to bathe. You've had me down here for at least three days and I demand to be clean.” said Doctor.
“I don't think you'll be caring about your hygiene anymore. I thought I'd wait to tell you, but I’ll say it now. Your brother, is dead.” He seemed pretty proud about the fact.
Of course, Dr. Whooves knew otherwise.
“Right, Bruce? Tell him how you murdered him as he lay asleep, then you teleported the corpse to the depths of the earth, never to be found!”
“YOU MONSTER!!” the doctor was a very good actor. Even Watson wondered whether he truly thought Sherlock was dead.
The master chuckled. “You'll get over it. When I rule Equestria, I'll have your entire family killed. And I'll kill that Watson fellow’s family as well.” he paused and Watson felt an urge to try and punch the master. “Did you find Watson, Bruce?”
Bruce spoke, “Um, no. Sherlock wasn't talking so I just killed him before anypony saw, sir.”
“You idiot! I need him dead too for my plan to work! I don’t want them sniffing his little detective nose in our business. I. Need. Him. Dead.” The sound of hoof on face contact could be heard and Bruce groaned.
“I have a plan.” Bruce managed to say.
“What is it, idiot?”
“I left a note on Sherlock’s bed telling Watson to got to the silver fountain. When we get the zebra to go into the alleyway next to it we’ll shoot it. He will look for the source of the noise and when he goes down a certain alley, a net will fall on him and trap him. And make him a sitting target for us to kill.”
More silence.
The master said, “That's…not half bad. We’ll be killing two ponies in one trip. Alright Bruce, I’ll give your plan a shot. In the morning we will get Night Chaser and Moon Dirt to assassinate. We don't want the cops to think that these killings have anything to do with each other. That's why we need different assassins for different targets.”
“I know,” said Bruce.
Watson heard the sound of hooves going up stairs. Then a creaky trap door being opened, then it being shut again.
Dr. Whooves question ended the silence pervading the dungeon, “Watson, where’s my brother?”
“So you know who I am. Surprising. He’s back at my house.” Watson answered back. “How do you know about me, while I don't know a thing about you?”
“My brother has been in the newspapers countless times, you don't think I'd read it?”
“Nopony ever reads the newspapers. Why isn't your cell hidden?” Watson changed the subject.
“Because they know I'm down here. They want to use me for my inventions.”
“Like what? What did you invent?”
Dr. Whooves sighed. “I never should have invented such a deadly weapon. Watson, I created something I call a gun. It's like a miniature cannon that fires miniature cannon balls.”
“And it's deadly?”
“Oh, yeah. The bullets can go straight through a pony and a half.”
“And you gave it to them?”
“No…yes, they tortured me into it. The big unicorn stabbed me and then healed me just so he could stab me and make me go through the pain again.”
“They did that to me, too. How many times did he get you?”
“Seven.” Dr. Whooves remembered the experience all too vividly.
Then the wrecking sound of sobs echoed around the dungeon. Dr. Whooves was crying. Watson said, “Are you alright?”
“No.” He answered tearfully. “Tomorrow they’re going to kill Sherlock. And I can't warn him or anything.”
Watson should have felt bad that he didn't give up Sherlock’s location to Bruce, but he wasn't. “You don't know Sherlock.” Watson said. “One does not simply kill Sherlock Hooves.”
Dr. Whoopes sighed a little with the reassurance Watson gave him. He slowly said, “How is Sherlock?”
Watson said, “He lives in his office, but that’s being fumigated, so right now he lives with me.”
Dr. Whooves gave a big sigh of shame and said, “I left home when I was really young to start my own business. Sherlock really depended on me and I just left him. Watson, does Sherlock really talk about his childhood life?”
“No. He mentioned you when he saw you in the paper for inventing the parachute and he saw that you changed your last name. He told me that you ran away from home when you were young and that changing your last name was a complete abomination to the Hooves family. Other than that, no. He never mentioned his parents or relatives.”
“That was because we were orphans.”
Watson’s mouth hung open slightly as he processed what he heard. Dr. Whooves spoke again, “What time is it Watson?”
He took out his pocket watch he always carried with him. “Two-thirty in the morning.”
“Good. That means I have plenty of time to tell you how I ruined Sherlock’s life before he dies in the morning.”
Special thanks to 24outthedoor and Brony707 for editing.
Chapter one: Watson's Kidnappers
Watson went and grabbed an extra thick coat for his walk to the park. He wasn't walking there to enjoy the nature or see the fresh sheet of snow that had just fallen out of the sky. No, he was walking to the park because his partner in crime fighting, Sherlock Hooves, was temporarily living there.
Watson easily spotted his friend lying asleep on a park bench. Sherlock had newspapers around his body like a blanket and used a very dirty bowler hat to cover his eyes from the sun.
Sherlock obviously hadn't showered in a while. Sherlock has always been better at smelling things than Watson, but he could still smell his partner’s horrid stench.
Watson gave a light punch to his partner's shoulder waking him up in a snort. Sherlock jolted his head up and the bowler hat and newspapers fell to the ground. His grey fur and black mane could now be seen along with his cutie mark of a silhouetted stallion wearing a deerstalker hat and pipe in its mouth on his flank.
Watson himself had tan fur and a brown colored mane. He was much younger than Sherlock and he was also an earth pony just like his partner. His cutie mark was a single magnifying glass which lead to his talent, high observation skills. Watson could see tiniest of details that most ponies would over look and could tell a lot about a pony just by looking at them.
Sherlock, on the other hoof, has an extraordinary sense of smell, he can remember very specific details from a long time ago and, like all good world famous detectives, could use logic and deduce many things everypony else would overlook.
“I thought you said you were going to live with your grandma while the office was being fumigated,” Watson said.
“My grandma’s dead,” Sherlock calmly said in his British accent. “Both of them, I think.”
“I'm…sorry?” Watson spoke in his similar British accent.
“Don't be. Now what do you want to talk about?” Sherlock scooted over on the bench to give Watson a place to sit.
Watson didn't sit. “You do know the office will be out of service for another two weeks, right? I know how you live there and such, but I can't see you living like this. I mean, what do you even eat?”
Sherlock stretched all his hooves and said with a sigh, “I live off of the water from the melting snow and the fruit hanging out of ponies back yards.”
Watson sighed and sat next to Sherlock. “If you want, Sherlock, you can live with me while the office is down.”
Sherlock didn’t answer at first. He picked his hat off the ground and swept the dirt off with his hoof, which of course didn’t really do anything. He took out his unlit pipe and stuck it in his mouth. With his other hoof, he then grabbed a box of matches.
Before Sherlock could light his precious nicotine, Watson ripped it out of his mouth and pocketed it. “No more spending bits on nicotine. You need to save up and get a house,” Watson pointed a hoof at his partner.
Sherlock was a little irritated. He put his dirty bowler hat at an angle so it covered his eyes. He folded his hooves, “Don’t you still live with your parents, boy?”
Watson laughed, “No, my parents still live with me. They’re both unemployed and I support them. If I bring a guest to my house then they can't kick him out.”
Sherlock sighed and lifted the bowler hat over his eyes. He really wanted a smoke. Sherlock looked at his dirty fur and felt the craving for real food in his stomach. He knew that he couldn't live like this any longer. “Fine… ”, Sherlock moned like he didn't want to, but he knew he really did.
Watson smiled. “Kay, follow me. Take my jacket.” Watson handed his thick jacket to Sherlock and he wrapped it around him without putting his hooves through the sleeves.
“Mum’s making dinner,” Watson informed. “We’re having grilled cheese.”
Sherlock smiled at the thought of having real food again.
The office had only been shut down for two days, but Sherlock was still glad to get food.
**********************
“So Sherlock,” Watson's mother Alex asked, “Watson also works at a dentist office.” Alex took a bite of her grilled cheese. “He said the little detective thing you and him do doesn't make any money.”
Sherlock now in clean fur because he took shower said, “Well, it depends on the case. Sometimes ponies will tip us for catching a criminal. But in our last case we stopped an evil gryphon King from destroying Ponyville and we didn't get paid a cent.”
“So do you do anything else besides solving cases?” Starcatcher, Watson’s father, was a very dark blue, almost black, stallion, who was once a very important astronomer before the company went bankrupt asked.
“No.” Sherlock answered. “I wait in my office for somepony to call or I just get involved with the police cases.”
“But you don't get paid. What do you live off of?”
Sherlock sighed. “Well, I got a loan from the bank…”
Watson's family set their food down. “But you’ll have to pay them back eventually,” said Alex.
“Not for another three months. And don't worry, it was only a five hundred bit withdrawal and I already have four hundred saved up.” Sherlock lied. He had no bits saved up at all.
Remember when I said Watson was observant? Well, he’s been with Sherlock for a long time, so he can tell when the stallion is lying. He didn't speak up though, not at the dinner table.
The family finished their meal, but still sat at the dinner table to chat with one another, however at this point Watson had already left. Sherlock talked about all the fun adventures that he had and he didn’t want to hear them again. Sherlock did have to under exaggerate some of the things Watson had done. If Sherlock did say everything that stallion had done, then his parents would have forced him to never speak to Sherlock ever again. Sherlock talked about how he moved to Ponyville about a month ago from Manehattan because he got kicked out of the town, that the incident forced Watson to move with Sherlock, and how it also forced Watson’s parents to move as well.
Watson went upstairs to polish his magnifying glass. He named it ‘Eagle Eye’ and even had its name inscription on the golden handle. When he was finished, he gently set it back in its case and slowly closed it.
Then a knock came from the front door downstairs. Watson could hear his mom yell from downstairs, “Watson, can you go get that?”
“Yes, mom.” Watson yelled back and made his way down his wooden steps. Watson noticed that the sun was almost about to finish setting. He opened the front door and the all-lovable Derpy Hooves was behind it.
“Hi, Derpy,” Watson said. “Do you have any mail for me?”
Derpy said in her signature, amazingly, awesome voice, “No. I have mail for Sherlock. His office was being fumigated and the workers said he wasn’t there. I didn’t know where else he could be so I’ll just give the letter to you and you can give it to him.” Derpy took out a letter from her saddle bag and held it out for Watson to take.
“Alright,” Watson said and took the letter from Derpy with his hoof. “I can give this to Sherlock. He actually lives here for now.” Watson smiled.
“Oh.” Derpy smiled too. “Well, looks like I came to the right place then.”
“Okay, thanks Derpy, I'll give this to Sherlock.” Watson closed the door and started walking towards the dining room where Sherlock was.
He looked at the outside of the letter just out of curiosity. He saw Sherlock’s office address on the middle of the letter and then Watson's heart skipped when he saw the return address. It was the Ponyville bank.
Watson was in the dining room doorway and Sherlock and his parents saw him. “Who was it?” Alex asked.
“Um, Derpy Hooves.” Watson did not know what to do. The bank probably wanted Sherlock’s money now. Watson couldn't give it to Sherlock. He had no money saved up and couldn't pay the bank back.
“Did you get a letter?” Alex asked her son.
An idea struck in Watson’s brain. “Yes…I DID get a letter. This is MY letter.” Watson held up the envelope and started waving it around. “It’s mine and no one elses.”
“So why did you come here?” Sherlock asked while leaning his head on his hoof.
“Um, I wanted to tell you that I'm not forever alone. I actually get letters.” Watson waved the envelope in the air like it was a first place golden trophy.
“So did your girlfriend write to you?” Sherlock asked again.
“I don't have a girlfriend.”
Sherlock giggled, “Sounds forever alone to me.”
Watson’s parents laughed and Sherlock laughed with them. Watson became angry and shut the door.
Watson couldn't believe that he was going to pay Sherlock’s debt even after he insulted him. Watson headed upstairs to his room to look at the letter.
Once inside he closed and locked his door so nopony would come inside.
Watson opened the letter that would have ended Sherlock’s financial life. Even though Sherlock’s financial life was almost dead.
Watson started to read. ‘DEAR Sherlock Hooves, YOU HAVE WITHDRAWLED 1000 BITS’
“A thousand?” Watson thought. “He only said five hundred.”
Watson continued reading, ‘YOU HAVE TILL January 17th. TO RETURN YOUR MONEY PLUS 8% INTEREST EVERY YEAR. YOU HAVE HAD YOUR MONEY FOR A TOTAL OF three years. YOU HAVE FOUR WARNINGS BEFORE THE BANK FORECLOSES YOUR HOME.
THIS IS YOUR fourth WARNING.
With hooves shaking, Watson set the letter down. Today was January 17th. Sherlock had to pay up today.
Watson sighed. He knew what he had to do, but he didn't want to do it.
Watson walked up to his closet and slowly opened the door. His closet was a mess. Clothes were not hung up, but instead on the floor. Watson’s mum told him that he needed to clean his closet, but he said that it was his house so his rules.
Watson removed clothes from the big pile on the closet floor. After a short while, a large five-gallon jug became visible. The jug was full of bits Watson was saving up. He planned on going on a fancy, high class cruise with his money, but now he was going to use it to help his friend. Watson dragged the jug out and it carried a few clothes with it. Watson cleared the clothes away and threw them back in his closet. He unscrewed the cap off of the jug, slowly.
He took hold of the jug’s top and pulled it down. Hundreds of tiny coins came out of the jug and on the ground. Watson sighed again and sat down on his bedroom floor.
He took a coin and slid it next to him.
“One,” he mentally counted. He slid more bits next to him and continued.
“two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…”
****************
Sherlock decided to hit the bed early. Actually, he hit the couch early. Watson's house didn't have a spare bed so Sherlock got the couch. But he didn't complain. In the two nights when he slept on a park bench, he got a total of seven hours of sleep.
Although he was very tired, he couldn't sleep. The thought of his debt kept bugging him. He hadn't save up a single bit and he only had two more months to pay up. (Or so he thought two months were left.) He didn't know what to do. He couldn't ask Watson for money. First, he’d never give Sherlock any money and second, he’d just be in debt to him.
Sherlock really hoped his crime solving business would take off when he create it. He thought ponies would be paying by the buckets to solve their cases. And, although Sherlock has solved all of his cases, nopony wanted his help. Sherlock always had to burst into a police scene and solve the case himself. It's a fun hobby, yes, but not a fun carrier.
Sherlock stared at the ceiling for a few moments. He rearranged his pillow and tried to fall asleep.
***********************
“One thousand two hundred and fifty six.” Watson said with a very tired voice. A pile of bits had formed around Watson and there was hardly anything left in the five gallon jug.
“One thousand two hundred and fifty seven.” Watson took a tea break when he reached a thousand bits. He thought he was done, but then he remembered about interest.
“One thousand two hundred and fifty eight.” Watson wanted to fall over in his pile of coins and sleep.
“One thousand two hundred and fifty nine.” Watson coughed. That really threw him off.
“And one thousand two hundred and sixty.” Watson dragged over the last coin next to him and smiled.
But he soon lost his smile. Now what? Watson had to carry all these coins to the bank somehow.
Watson caught a glimpse of his pillowcase and groaned at what he had to do next. Watson got up and removed his pillow case from his pillow
*****************
Sherlock was already a very light sleeper. When he heard Watson’s squeaky bedroom door open, Sherlock was immediately wide awake. Sherlock decide that he would just lay on the couch and not say anything to Watson.
Then, the sound of something being dragged across the upstairs hallway could be heard. Then, it sounded like it was being takes down the stairs. What ever it was, made a loud ‘clink’ sound every time it hit each step while being dragged down.
Finally, when Watson was downstairs, he started to drag the thing towards the front door.
Sherlock could catch a glimpse of what was happening from his position. It was Watson and he was carrying a pillowcase full of…stuff. The way it sounded when it was being dragged down the steps made it seem like bits were in the pillow case.
Sherlock still didn’t move. Watson probably believed that he was asleep. Sherlock saw Watson swing the bag over his shoulder and groan when it hit his back.
That was odd. What did Watson want to with this sack of money?
Watson opened the front door and went outside.
When the door closed behind Watson Sherlock mentally counted to ten and shot up from the couch. Sherlock looked outside and saw that his partner had hardly made any distance. What was he doing?
Sherlock took one of Watson's clean bowler hats off of his hat rack, put on a dark coat and went outside to follow Watson.
**********************
Watson felt like he was being followed during the entire walk.
The pillow case full of bits was getting very heavy on his back and it's already very hard to walk with one one free forehoof while the other steadied the sack.
Watson eventually made it to the bank. Somepony already inside saw Watson with the big bag and held the door open for him.
Watson walked inside and made his way to the other end of the bank where the bankers desk were. He set the sack on the counter with a loud ‘thud’ and was relieved to finally get it off his back. The banker looked up at the sack and Watson explained.
“I want to return a loan I made three years ago.” Watson said. He wanted to make himself sound like he was Sherlock for the moment because he didn't know if it was legal to put bits in somepony’s account without them knowing.
“Alright,” said the banker. She had blue fur and matching blue and white colored mane. “Last name?” The banker took out a big book and looked at Watson.
“Um, Hooves,” Watson lied. “H-O-O-V-E-S.” Watson spelled it out to show the banker that he knew his last name and didn't just lie about it.
The banker opened her book and started flipping through pages. When she landed on a certain page she slid her hoof down on the paper until she found Sherlock’s name. “Sherlock?” She asked, “A thousand bits three years ago. Last possible time you could've returned was…today.”
“Yep, that's me.” Watson lied. “I'm Sherlock, hehe.” Watson put on a very fake smile.
“Well I'm glad you finally returned our money, Sherlock.” She smiled and took out a clipboard, “Now if you can sign here…”
Watson was too nervous to use logic. He quickly grabbed the quill out of the inkwell on the counter and signed the paper in Sherlock’s signature. He knew how to forge Sherlock’s signature perfectly.
“…that would be wonderful.” the banker finished. “So with interest, your total becomes one thousand two hundred and sixty bits.”
“Yeap.” Watson agreed. “Should all be in there.” Watson patted the bag.
“Alright. I'll just take this to our weighing scale to make sure. You can wait here.”
“Oh! A scale!” Watson realized. “I could've used that to count the money!”
“What did you do? Count it all out?” The banker said jokingly.
Watson blushed and slightly nodded.
The banker laughed and said, “that's adorable.” She grasped the bag of money and slid it across the counter. When the bag was off the counter the banker almost dropped it. With slow steps she headed in a door with the sign ‘Employees only’ on it.
Watson waited in silence. He started to tap his hooves on the counter like they were drums out of sheer boredom.
Then somepony tapped his shoulder behind him. Right when the banker came out of the back room. She wasn't holding the sack with her.
Watson turned and saw a light black pegasus with a black mane. He looked to be about the same age as Watson and he asked, “Hey, are you Sherlock Hooves?”
Watson didn't know what to say. He didn't want to confess right now because the banker would probably hear him if he did. So he just went along with the lie he had already created, “Um, yeah, I'm Sherlock.”
The black pegasus smiled and held out a hoof for Watson to shake. While the handshake was awkward, there was a smile stretching on the pegasus’s face. He said, “Wow, I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. I've read all about you in the newspaper.”
“Uh-huh.” Watson said while slowing his shaking speed. If this pegasus really read about him in the newspaper then wouldn’t he have known that the stallion he was talking to was Watson? “Well, I got to return to my loan. I'll see you around,” said Watson.
“Of course,” the pegasus released his grip and started backing away. “You go do that. I have to go too. Bye Sherlock.” The pegasus waved a hoof goodbye and walked out the door. Watson didn't remember seeing that guy when he walked in. What the heck did he want? Just to say ‘hi’ to a complete stranger? And how could have read about Sherlock and not know that he was talking to Watson? Surely the paper would have included a photograph?
Watson turned to the banker. She said, “Well your counting skills are very good. You only gave me one extra bit.” She held up a single bit and flicked it to Watson.
Watson stumbled to catch his coin. It bounced out if his hooves every time he attempted to catch it and eventually fell into the tip jar on the banker’s desk.
“Uh, on second thought, you can keep it.” Watson said.
The banker laughed. “You're funny, Sherlock. My name’s Colgate.” the banker held out a hoof.
Watson stopped looking at his lost coin and up at Colgate. He shook her hoof.
“We should hang out sometime, Sherlock.” Was she hitting on Watson? “I have some friends that you'd just love to meet.” Oh yeah, DEFINITELY hitting on him.
“Sounds great.” Watson smiled and could hardly believe what was happening. “I can come back here tomorrow. I'm done with work around six.”
“It's a date.” Colgate smiled back.
“I'll see you then.” Watson smiled, waved goodbye and headed out the door.
Well that was probably the easiest time Watson had ever had getting a girlfriend. Okay, she wasn’t really his girlfriend yet, but she seemed interested. “Who's forever alone now, Sherlock?” Watson thought. “Wait a minute. She thinks I'm Sherlock. SHE THINKS I’M SHERLOCK!” Watson moaned. He just lost a thousand bits and his only chance at getting a girlfriend. Great.
**********************
Sherlock could hardly believe what he saw through the bank’s outside window. Watson paid off his debt. “My debt was due today?” Sherlock thought. “I thought I still had more warnings. Watson didn't even tell me about it or rub it in my face or complain about it.” Sherlock felt a lot of gratitude Watson was his friend. He had to make it up to him somehow. But how can you repay somepony that gave you a thousand bits for free? A cake certainly wouldn’t not do.
Sherlock decided to go home and sleep on it. He was still very tired and couldn't believe anypony would do such a thing for him.
Sherlock ran through the small forest of trees in Ponyville. It was a shortcut to Watson's house and Sherlock need to be back home before Watson. He had to because if Watson realized he wasn’t at home, he’d know Sherlock had been following him.
Sherlock made it back and went inside. He jumped on the couch and tried to control his breathing.
******************
“Well looks like I'll have no vacation.” Watson was talking to himself and wasn't very happy. He sighed and continued, “No, I can do without a vacation. Sherlock on the other hoof probably can't do being homeless.”
Watson saw his house in the distance. At least now he got to sleep. He walked inside and saw that Sherlock was still awake, and lying on the couch.
“Watson?” Sherlock asked.
“Yeah?” Watson said.
“Where were you?”
Watson didn’t want to tell Sherlock he paid his debt. If he did, Sherlock would insist on paying it for himself and eventually would go homeless. He couldn’t have that. “Um, I was out for a walk. Have you been awake this entire time?” Watson wanted to make sure Sherlock hadn’t seen him leave with the money.
“I didn't see you leave, so I suppose not.”
“Alright.” Watson was glad he didn't. “See you in the morning.” he said, walking upstairs.
But before he could make it all the way up the stairs, Sherlock said, “Watson?”
Watson returned quietly so he wouldn't wake his parents, “Yeah?”
Sherlock sighed. “Thank you. Thanks for letting me stay here. I don't know what I would’ve done without you.”
Watson didn't know what to say. So he went with, “You’re welcome.” and he continued to walk to his room.
When he entered, he saw that Colgate still had his pillow case at the bank. “Great.” Watson thought again and hopped into bed pillow case-less.
******************
There's a wooden board right next to Watson's bed that would always squeak when you stepped on it. Watson hated it. Every time he got out of bed in the morning, he would hear that squeak painfully making its way to his ears. Watson had tried to fix it numerous times, but with no luck so far.
So when Watson heard that squeak at exactly two in the morning, his eyes shot open.
Shocked, he realized the squeak wasn't caused by neither his parents nor Sherlock. It was a pony standing up on his back legs and wearing a hooded cloak hiding his face. He held, what looked like a big metal knife in his forehooves and was about to swing down on Watson.
But oh did this pony pick the wrong pony to attack. Watson was pretty good at fighting.
While lying in his bed, Watson punched the mysterious pony in the stomach. He lowered the knife to clenching his belly.
Watson quickly got up and put his back right hoof directly behind of the other ponies back right hoof. Then, with his front hooves, he pushed the mysterious pony forward. The force made the pony go back and Watson's back hoof made him trip. And he slammed into the floor.
But Watson saw that his perpetrator hadn’t come alone. About seven other ponies wearing hooded cloaks were also in the room. Some had knives and some had fighting batons.
Watson didn’t have time to sigh. Another pony armed with a baton swung sideways. Watson ducked out of the way. He say the knife on the the ground from the pony he tripped and picked it up. The attacking pony swung down at Watson while he was still crouching. Watson blocked with his knife.
Watson swung his knife and disarmed the pony. He started backing away, but Watson managed a punch in his face before he got too far away.
Another pony charged at Watson. He had a knife up raised in the air. Watson threw his knife directly at his hoof. He didn’t throw hard, just enough for him to drop his weapon.
Another charged at his side. Watson bent down and stepped forward a bit and the attacking pony landed on his shoulder. Watson stood back up and the other pony flipped over and landed on the ground.
Time slowed as another pony attacked with a baton. Watson grabbed the attacking pony’s hoof before he could finish the swing. That left his face wide open and Watson punched it. Managing to grab the baton out of his hooves he spun around, hitting another attacking pony. He fell.
It felt good that Watson could swing at his attackers with a baton and know he wasn’t killing any of them. He hit a few in the legs so they would have a hard time attacking. Watson blocked and disarmed many of them. Soon enough, they remained still. Watson was easily gaining the upper hoof, without getting hit even once.
And Watson would have been successful, if he hadn’t been caught in a black aura before getting slammed into his bedroom wall. Everything stopped. Watson couldn't move.
It was a unicorn. A strong unicorn. A unicorn that was surprisingly good at magic. All of Watson’s attackers were either unconscious on the ground or could barely stand up. So who was doing this?
Special thanks to 24outthedoor for editing and Brony707 to finish editing when 24outthedoor told me he was going to be busy and couldn't edit. I thank you both any everyone that enjoyed reading.
