Of Detectives

by RavensDagger

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Slice of Life
Length: 8166

It's a detective story, you should read it.

Ponies don't kill. It's a fact. Nopony living in the peaceful land of equestria would ever dare to harm another. And yet, in the bustling capital of Canterlot, eighteen ponies lie dead. Who do you call when the leads are gone and the trail is as cold as the act committed?

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-05-17 17:14:01 UTC

Of Detectives

A light breeze fluttered by, much to the the relief of the the guards that stood over the the eighteen long, black bags. In the centre of the the room was a long wooden dining table. On it were eighteen place settings. Silver utensils and expensive china abounded, and the the still-warm food wafted the the smell of cooked cabbage and boiled carrots about the the stuffy, overcrowded room.

The sun worked at keeping the food warm. Bright beams of it poured through the room’s many skylights, boiling the heads of the guards that sweated as they worked. The occasional crunch of hoof on glass broke the somber silence. The floor, decorated with a lavish carpet from an exotic country, was speckled with glass. Glass that was missing from one of the skylights above.

Ponies in white armour trotted around, whispering in hushed tones and glancing at the bags discretely. They didn’t speak of them as they went about their business, sampling prints and taking pictures of the elegant dining hall.

One pony in particular though, dressed in the livery of a lieutenant, was making quite a bit of noise as he paced back and forth, his heavy hoof-falls echoing off the marble floor.

The other members of the guard occasionally glanced his way, looking at him in an almost judgemental fashion from the corners of their eyes. “Why is he coming again?” the lieutenant asked a unicorn that sat nearby. The unicorn sported three notepads and as many quills hovering around him, all cast in a red glow that illuminated that corner of the room.

“I don’t know, sir... Because Shining Armour ordered it?” offered the unicorn, scribbling on two of his notepads at once.

The pony stopped his pacing, preferring to drum a hoof against the ground nervously. “Well, when will he be here?”

The secretary’s chest heaved a sigh, until his eye caught that of the officer. “I don’t know, Lieutenant. He has a reputation for being late.”

The lieutenant grumbled, eyes roving across the growing crowd of gawkers and curious ponies that had gathered outside the estate. It was hard not to notice the half dozen sky-carts parked on the flowing, well-trimmed grass. Harder yet was the veritable army of ponies in armour that trotted around. The bodies had yet to be shown or seen, but it was just a matter of time.  The media ponies were gathering, taking preliminary pictures while waiting for the real juicy stuff to appear.

Beyond the gawkers rose the tall spires of Canterlot. Gleaming white marble towers overlooked the city proper, where hundreds and thousands of ponies went about their daily business. Pegasi fluttered through the air as the telltale glow of unicorn horns flashed brilliantly from afar.

A pegasus zipped into the room, stopping mere inches from the officer as a strong draft of wind followed him, picking up some stray papers and blowing them about. “Sir, approaching sky-cart. One of ours,” he announced.

The lieutenant stalled his reprimands, favouring a large, almost childish, smirk instead. “Perfect, this must be our illustrious guest! We can finally get this over with and let the real stallions handle things!” he exclaimed happily. Some of the mares on the team shot him a less-than-happy glance.

Smiling, the lieutenant trotted over to the nearby glass wall. His smile grew brighter as he noticed a few cameras flashing from below. Puffing out his chest, he proudly demonstrated his gleaming new symbols of rank while lifting his chin. Doing so allowed him to see the sky-cart above turn around the estate, then turn around it again. He frowned as it circled around once more. His frown grew when he noticed an earth pony half hanging out, one hoof holding a pair of binoculars to its face.

“What the-- You!” he yelled, pointing to a nearby pegasus under his command. “Tell them to land already!” he ordered.

Saluting, the pegasus soldier darted up to the sky-cart, matching its speed while he argued with the pilot. Both pilot and soldier gestured wildly, the soldier pointing towards the ground, and the pilot shrugging before pointing to the odd trench-coat wearing pony who was his passenger.

The passenger, still clutching his binoculars while his fedora miraculously stayed on his head that was covered in curly lock of unruly hair. Leaning forward, he hollered something to the two feuding ponies. Both nodded, their relief visible as their shoulders loosened and the cart began to descend.

Ponies on the ground cleared some space moments before the cart landed with a soft thump on the estate grounds. The trenchcoat-wearing pony hopped out, landing gracefully on the ground, only to stop and adjust his hat. He sat beside the cart, head slowly turning from one side to the other as he inspected everything around him.

“What the hay is he doing?” asked the lieutenant. He stared at the curly-haired pony, dumbfounded. The pony shook himself and began trotting toward the building proper.

Guards yielded respectfully as his eyes roved over and through them, occasionally smiling or nodding to one or the other. Then he began talking.

“I like the new apartment, Scribeswell; I see you bought a new quill! Started up on that writing hobby again?” he asked a gruff-looking unicorn. The soldier blushed a little then nodded.

“Nice to see you, Matilda! Yet another foal on the way? Impressive!” the trenchcoat-wielding pony smiled to a very slim mare. She fainted.

“Kind Bits!” he exclaimed upon seeing a gangly pegasus flying by with tools in his hooves. The pegasus landed nearby, opening his mouth to greet the odd pony. “You really shouldn’t do that with Pounder’s wife, he’ll be mad. Oh, you dog, you!” The odd pony jovially slapped the panicking pegasus on the shoulder. Behind him, a particularly large earth pony soldier growled menacingly.

“You in charge here?” asked the odd pony, looking at the lieutenant as he ran towards the house. He stopped at the threshold of the dining hall. His head rose up and his eyes closed as he sniffed the air, taking in deep breaths.

The lieutenant felt the eyes of everypony in the room on him at once. “I am,” he said, strolling towards the earth pony.

“Good. You and your secretary can stay. Everypony else, out.” Smiling confidently, he walked into the room, moving aside and nodding politely as ponies trudged out of the room, giving him small and cordial welcomes. Most of their backs slumping as the tension of the house left their shoulders.

The lieutenant shook his head, sputtering in anger. “You-you can’t just order them out! They’re my soldiers!” he yelled.

“We haven’t met yet, have we?” The earth pony smiled sheepishly, one hoof scratching the back of his head. “You’re new, very new. Ponies outside don’t trust you yet.” He leaned forward, inspecting the lieutenant with a critical eye. “Can’t blame them, clothes are well pressed, shoes are not even scuffed, watch is new... on the outside.” The pony grabbed his hoof, lifting it before the officer pulled back. “But dirty on the inside.”

The earth pony looked up, any sign of a smile long gone. “You’re an arrogant arse. You think that just because you have a shiny new badge, you can boss ponies around. Nopony likes ponies like you. Shut up and sit down.” He turned to the secretary. “Ah, hello, Cross, how do you do?”

The lieutenant sat on the ground hard, a light thump resounding around the eerily quiet room as he stared at the detective. “Who-who are you?” he finally asked, his voice slightly awed.

“The name’s Sleuth Eye, detective. A few thousand more years of experience than you. Follow me, I’ll show you around.” Sleuth Eye turned on the spot and began walking toward the centre of the room. Cross followed closely, his notepads and quills hovering along.

“My name’s Stiff Order,” he cried feebly from his spot near the entrance. Sighing, Stiff Order removed his helmet, letting the midday sun bathe his blond mane in its glow. Suddenly his ears perked up. “Wait, did you say your name was, Sloth?”

Sleuth Eye froze on the spot, one hoof raised as if to take another step forward. A light breeze fluttered his coat before he sighed. “My name is Sleuth, S-l-e-u-t-h. It means to track, or to trail.” Sleuth Eye shook his head dismissively. “Now tell me what happened here, then I’ll prove you wrong, prove my superior intellect, and solve the crime... usually in that order.”

Stiff Order grumbled under his breath. “Fine,” he began. Trotting past the detective, he indicated the eighteen bodybags. “Those ponies were all found dead here this morning by the caretaker, some old pony. They were poisoned. The owner of this place owns a gas heating company; they provide heating for the houses around here. It looks like one of the lines burst and flooded the room; the stuff’s deadly.”

Sleuth Eye walked forward, his quiet hoof-falls ringing on the marble floors. Delicately, he ran a hoof along the edge of a plate and sniffed it. “Yes, you’re right... on some things. Wrong on most of it... Cross, can you fetch that caretaker please?”

The secretary nodded, then disappeared with a bright flash of magic, leaving the other two alone.

Sleuth Eye nodded absently then trotted around the dining room table, his eyes roaming around the room. “Ah ha! Found you!” He suddenly exclaimed, rearing up, he placed two hooves on the table. Fixing his eyes on the centre of the table.

Stiff Order followed his gaze to an old oil lamp placed in the centre of the table. “What? I don’t get it.”

The detective smiled knowingly before turning away from the table and walking over to the bags. All eighteen of them were in a perfect row, closed up tightly as their glossy black finish shone bright in the sunlight.

“Which is the householder?”

Stiff Order pointed to one bag in particular. Nodding in thanks, the detective solemnly walked over to the bag, gently tugging on its zipper until it was fully open. Inside, the inanimate body of a white unicorn lay, his clothes pristine and well-pressed despite the death of their owner.

“Alright. Now I need to talk to the gardener, and I’ll be done here... The guard ponies are running blood samples I imagine?”

“Huh?” Stiff Order was taken by surprise by the constant changes in subject. “Um, yeah. They should be ready in a few minutes.”

Sleuth Eye closed the bag with a quick zip. “Good, that should be all the proof I need.” He turned towards the lieutenant. “You have a murder on your hooves.”

The lieutenant’s ears perked up. “What? That’s impossible! You’re wron-”

The fedora-clad pony shoved a hoof in his mouth. “Shush, Cross brought our guest.” At the entrance, the unicorn soldier was escorting an earth pony wearing well-worn work clothes, the edges of which were slightly tattered. The old pony nervously glanced at the lined-up body bags as he fretted on his aching joints.

“Thank you, Cross,” said Sleuth Eye as he calmly walked towards the groundskeeper. “Hello, sir, I was hoping that you could help me solve this mystery...”

The old pony nodded. “I-I’ll do the best I can, young man, my name’s Dupin. I-” The pony stopped speaking as Sleuth leaned in close, hovering nearby as his eyes slowly crawled along the old pony. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, huh?” Sleuth Eye looked up. “Oh, I’m done with you, you can go.”

Blinking the earth pony was gently guided out of the room by Cross, the two sets of hooves clopping along until they reached the exit.

Sleuth sat down slowly onto the ground, swishing a few pieces of glass away with his tail. “I’ve solved it... or at least, most of it.”

The three ponies were quiet for awhile, the only sound the gentle swaying of trees in the breeze that wafted a smooth scent into the confined room. Finally Stiff Order scoffed. “For a second there I thought you were serious. Cross, get this charlatan out of here.” The lieutenant reached forward, grabbing Sleuth Eye by the shoulder.

“Eighteen place settings.”

Stiff Order froze. “What?”

A small smile crossed the detective’s lips. “Eighteen place settings.” The detective pointed to the table and the plates that were placed on it. “But only seventeen guests.” He began walking around the table. “I’m surprised you missed it, most ponies would notice... eventually.” He stopped and pointed. On the table was a plate, with knives and forks, but these were not made of plastic, not silver and fine china like the rest,. Reaching out, Seuth Eye pulled back the chair facing that plate, revealing a small stack of books that were placed on it.

“There was a kid?” asked Stiff Order, eyes widening in shock. “We need to arrange a search!”

Wait!” yelled Sleuth Eye, raising a calming hoof. “Let me finish first, you can go on your useless search later.” He pointed towards the body bags. “Cross, open the pegasus’ bag.”

Nodding, the unicorn trotted over to the last bag in the row, opening it with a small burst of magic. “It’s a pegasus,  as you have said; minor injuries caused by falling glass. She’s a mailmare from what we can tell from her dress and bagage. Average height, blonde mane and tail, slightly crossed eyes...”

The detective smiled kindly toward the unicorn. “Thank you, Cross. Now, that mare-”

“Wait!” interrupted Stiff Order. “How did you know that there was a pegasus?”

Sleuth Eye sighed. “The bags, unicorns have horns, pegasi have wings, all the other bags have unicorns in them. As to why I know she doesn’t belong... look at her, she’s a mailmare, unworthy of these high pretentious ponies...” The detective turned and addressed Cross. “Can you get her bags? Specifically the letter addressed to this place today?”

Cross nodded then disappeared with another zap.

“She fell through the roof.” He pointed to the broken skylight.

“So it was poisonous gas!”

“No.” Sleuth shook his head, a heavy frown forming on his brow. “Would you let me finish a sentence once in awhile? They were poisoned, but not by the gas. Nor did the gas line rupture. Didn’t you see that caretaker? His clothes were dirty and sweat stained despite smelling fresh and clean. He works hard. The lawn is impeccable and the place is supremely clean. You won’t find a nail out of place here. Actually, the owner most likely took care of this gas line himself... but that’s another matter.”

“Then how--”

“The spoons... and forks and maybe the plates. Poison in the food is obvious, poison on the forks and knives... less so. The gas was a cover up.” Sleuth ran to the centre of the table, rearing up to it he grabbed the old lamp. “Look at this!” He thrust it into the lieutenant's face.

It was made of brass, and a large container at the bottom had been intricately carved with swirling rustic pattern, its handle was made of carved glass. Stiff Order shrugged. “I don’t see what’s wrong with it...”

“Gaah, you stupid ponies, sometimes I swear... lunacy... No, I hate that word... Look at it; it doesn’t go with the decoration, and look at the mechanism, it’s made for earth ponies!” Stiff Order stared at him blankly. “Earth ponies! The only occupants of this house were of unicorn orientation. This doesn't belong here. It was placed after they all fainted... It’s a bomb!”

“What!?” Stiff Armour backpedalled, hooves sliding across the marble as he quickly made his way to the doorway.

“Not that kind of bomb! It’s a timer. Set to light up after a set amount of time, still a few hours before it lights. Plenty of time for Conan to realize what’s going on and to open a window or two. Now, if Cross would return, I’ll have the last piece of the puzzle.” With a huff, the detective placed the lamp on the ground and sat beside it.

An awkward silence loomed as Sleuth breathed in and out with calm bated breaths. The air smelt of gas and cooked cabbages, not the best of mixes. “Ponies don’t murder.” he finally said.

Stiff Order looked down, almost in shame. “Yes, I know.”

“I think this was an accident.” The detective motioned toward the bags absently with a forehoof. “The poison on the plates was to knock them out, and the timer on the bomb is still going. It won’t ignite for at least an hour. In my opinion, and you should listen to my opinion, this was supposed to be a threat. Knock everypony out then, once they leave, blow up the room. Send a message. Speaking of messages...”

At that moment Cross trotted in, an opened letter floating alongside his many notepads. “What does it say?” asked Stiff Order.

The secretary coughed before unfurling the letter and reading it aloud. “‘Mister Conan: Hopefully as you read this you have awakened from your impromptu nap. Your dining room is filled with your favorite little gas, and on your table there’s a nice little trinket we left behind. Hopefully it won’t damage your table too much. But enough about that. Our message is simple; pull out of Appleloosa.’ That’s all...”

Sleuth sighed again. “So it was an accident.”

The detective picked up one of the spoons with a forehoof. “Somepony poisoned the utensils.”

He ran to the gas heater, tapping the hole with the spoon. “Poked a hole in the gas main, then waited, when he or she walked in.”

He trotted out of the room from the house exit, then strutted back in, picking up the lamp as he moved towards the centre of the room. “They placed the timer on the table then trotted out”

“At that point I’ll assume they noticed that the child was unaffected. They most likely foalnapped the kid, maybe as an added ransom.” He trotted under the skylight where the blue sky and plenty of fluffy white clouds were visible.

“The glass broke... The mailmare most likely saw the commotion and burst through to save the foal. She won herself a buck to the chest.” He pointed at one corner where the glass had been pushed aside.

“After which,” Sleuth resumed, “the perpetrator fled. The gas rose up... It wouldn’t have killed them, if it wasn’t for the mixture with the poison. The mare who was injured was on the ground, the gas was heavy...”

“But... why?” asked Stiff Order, awed at the detective.

“I don’t know yet. But it has something to do with Appleloosa, and what the owner was going to do there.” Sleuth began trotting out of the building.

“Where are you going?”

The detective stopped, staring at the lieutenant until he squirmed. “To solve a murder.”

Tall marble columns decorated the outside of the old building made of carved stone. The sun sparkled against the clean walls that were still soaked in early morning dew. Around the extravagant entrance, pastel ponies milled around, some chatting with friends while calmly strolling along and other rushing about with briefcases held with mouth or magic as they rushed to and from work.

On the building was a great plaque, its brass writing polished to a sheen. ‘Whodunit Industries,’ it proudly proclaimed to everypony that passed.

Walking towards the building in a slow and steady fashion was an earth pony, his trenchcoat billowing in the wind as he trotted past a small city-park, filled with singing birds and happily chirping squirrels. Foals, fillies and colts ran about, playing and tumbling on the soft grass in a scene of perfect tranquility despite the cold shadows of the looming white towers that surrounded them all.

Sleuth Eye’s confident stroll shifted as he made his way towards the large building, his hoof steps clacking against the stone steps long ago worn to a sheen by countless hooves. Two metallic doors slid open on well-oiled hinges as the detective trotted by, not sparing a glance to the burly door-ponies.

Inside, the air was cool, calming. The soothing white walls and burgundy furniture grabbed the eyes of those unaccustomed to the building and focused them forward toward large mahogany reception desk.

Smiling to himself, Sleuth Eye walked to the desk, beaming at the lithe secretary who sat there. “Hello, sir. How may I help you today?” she asked, smiling as the edges of her eyes wrinkled.

“Hello, Miss...” Sleuth Eye’s eyes dropped to a pin on her chest. “Christy. I’m Sleuth, a detective for the Royal Canterlot Guard. I’ll be needing to see all of the files pertaining to your company's transactions in the Ponyville and Appleloosa areas.”

The mare blinked twice. “Pardon?” she asked, a hoof absently touching a small pendant at her neck.

“Files, papers, the information on them. This is important, you see...” He began drumming a hoof on the edge of the desk, watching as a single bead of sweat formed at the edge of her forehead.

“Look Mister... Sloth, I don’t have time for your tomfoolery. You’ll need either a warrant or permission from Mister Conan to be able to see that sort of thing!”

Sleuth hummed for a few seconds, eyes closed in concentration. When he spoke, the mare jumped in her seat. “First, it’s Sleuth, not sloth. Second, Mister Conan is dead, it will be fairly hard to pry permission from his cold hard hooves now...”

“Wh-what?” The mare’s eyes widened, tears beginning to form along their edges. “You’re lying!”

The detective sighed. “Look, Christy, I know you loved him, you two were close...” he extended a hoof, clutching her shoulder. “He gave you that pendant... didn’t he?” Sleuth whispered. The mare nodded, uncertainty still evident on her face.

“I’m so sorry, yesterday... yesterday Conan was murdered in his estate. His wife died too... and their little foal...”

The mare began sobbing, clutching at the pendant. “No, not little Hercule!” she cried out. Ponies began to slow down, staring at them as Sleuth patted her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, little Hercule is fine... but they took him, those conniving fools foalnapped him. I need to see those records. Please, this is our only chance to save him! Do it for Conan. You know how he loved his son...”

The mare nodded fiercely, “You’re right.” Her head disappeared under the desk, reappearing with a key-ring. She tossed the keys on the table with a light jingle. “Here... Third door to the left after the main staircase. Those are the archives..." The mare looked down at the desktop, blinking tears from her eyes. "Please save little Hercule.”

Sleuth nodded. “Of course, I’ll do my best.” He grabbed the keys and backed away from the desk, leaving the next person in line to trot up to the distraught secretary. A sardonic smile crossed the detective’s face as he made his way up the steps.

The sunlight had long ago made its way across the granite steps of the building. Now those very steps were covered entirely by the tower’s shadow. Ponies shivered slightly as they walked from the warm light to the cold shade. Some of those same ponies were also surprised to see a double column of armoured guards trot into the building. More surprising was the sight of the column’s leader trotting out of the building moments later.

Stiff Order swore and kicked at the air angrily while Cross desperately tried to calm him down. Utterances best not repeated around youthful ears were given about a certain meddling detective as a crowd formed to watch the show. At the door a secretary sat, her hoof alternating between dabbing her eyes with an already wet cloth and clutching at a precious little pendant that dangled around her neck.

Moments later the same column trotted out, some of them carrying boxes filled to the brim with important looking paperwork. On one box, in red pen, were the words‘It’s in this one, see you there Stiffy!~ Signed Sleuth Eye.’

The whistle blew, signaling their approach to the nearby town. Inside the train, everything bounced up and down with startling regularity as the wheels thundered across sand-covered tracks. Inside the powerful locomotive, ponies were awakening from their slumber, stretching and yawning heavily as their destination loomed ahead.

Baggage was pulled down from racks as the desertic scenery outside the trains window changed to one of trees and weak grass that blurred by, almost obscured by the thick plumes of smoke that billowed out of the engine. Sleuth Eye sat in the middle of the middle row in the middle of the train, his keen eyes wandering aimlessly around the passenger carriage.

Pushing himself out of the less-than-comfortable seat, he began stretching, first his forelimbs then his rear. One of those forelimbs then made its way to the edge of his eye, wiping away the thin crust that had formed there. Around him, mares and stallions, and even a few foals, were forming lines near the entrance.

The rumbling of the train’s massive wheels began to slow as ponies gently swayed forward, setting their hooves against the strong deceleration. With a piercing screech the whistle blew once more, signalling the arrival of the train at the station, “We’re here, everypony! Appleloosa station, all debark!” yelled the conductor redundantly. “That you for using the Poriant Express, ladies and gentlecolts!”

Sleuth waited near his seat as the group of ponies slowly thinned out, leaving him alone save for a few ponies still caring for their luggage. Ignoring them, the detective made his way out of the carriage, hoofsteps changing from heavy metallic clangs to light wooden clops.

Outside, the morning sun shone brightly, illuminating the rustic western town in a warm, earthy glow. Ponies wearing stetsons trotted about, pulling carts or talking to one another as they went about their business. The town emanated peace and tranquility, and yet, he knew that there was a murderer here.

The curly haired detective trotted off the ramp, landing on the sandy ground with a soft thump. Looking around he spotted exactly what he wanted. A young mare, wearing oil-stained overalls was trotting nearby, purposefully striding towards goodness-knows-what with a large wrench in her mouth.

“‘Scuse me, Miss? Ah’m new here, and Ah was wantin’ to know where the local waterin’ holes’ at?” Sleuth asked, tipping his fedora forward in salute.

The mare slowed to a stop and spat out her wrench. “Well, nice ta meet you, Mister. Ah’m Marelow.” She extended a hoof and vigorously shook his. “And as fer a waterin’ hole, well... There’s the Salt Block, but them fellows have a bad reputation. You might want to try Spade’s general store, he’s back over yonder.” She pointed down towards the centre of the long town.

“Thank you, Miss Marelow, your help is greatly appreciated.” Sleuth smiled lightly at the sudden shift of expressions on her face. “I’ll be heading there now, thank you... Oh! And if you see a group of Royal Guards could you point them my way? Thanks!”

His trench coat flapping behind him, Sleuth trotted towards the general store, a large flat-fronted building with images of the various wares it carried proudly displayed on its front windows. Without hesitating, Sleuth Eye trotted through the open door and into the store.

Canned food, articles of clothing, simple tools, magazines and newspapers, even a horseshoe display, filled every nook and corner of the store. But Sleuth Eye’s eyes only glanced over them momentarily before settling on the ponies.

Half a dozen old stallions were gathered near the counter, puffing on old, well-worn pipes and talking amongst themselves in cackling voices as they sat around the checkout counter. Sleuth calmly walked by them, minding his own business, ears perked as he headed towards the produce stand and began comparing cabbages.

He didn’t have to wait long before one of them addressed him. “Heya, kiddo?” asked a wrinkled light blue pony sitting beside a dark maroon pony of equal age.

Sleuth looked up and to the old stallion that had addressed him. “Yessir? Can Ah help you?”

The pony pointed to his companions with a hoof that had plowed more than one field. “We were talkin’ ‘bout  justice... You know, how things are handled by the law... Name’s Marple.”

Sleuth’s brow furrowed in thought. “Yeah, you guys here about that Conan fellow?”

Recognition flashed across all of their eyes. “Well, yeah, we know of him! Stupid unicorn, tried to get us to buy some new-fangled gas heatin’ thing. Kept trying to sell it to us,” said Marple, pushing his drink across the counter as he leaned back.

Sleuth nodded along. “What happened then?” he inquired.

“Whelp, he tried to reason with us, then he backstabbed us all, signed some papers with the mayor. We didn’t ‘ave a choice no more! Conniving unicorn jerks!”

“Well...” One of the old ponies scratched the back of his maroon head. “Gotta admit that there heatin’ system did look promisin’...” A few murmurs of agreement spread amongst the other elders.

“Hmph, load of donkey manure if you ask me, Holmes,” harrumphed the blue pony. “Ah still don’t like what the Conan fellow did, somepony ought to tell him to mind his own business...”

Sleuth stepped back from the produce rack, taking a few steps towards the old ponies. “Well, Ah don’t think you’ll have to worry about him no more. He’s dead.” The detective’s eyes ran from one face to another, gauging the expressions of the old ponies.

“Dead?” asked the old blue pony, his voice a little shaky. “Well I’ll be... Didn’t like the fellow, could stand to mind his own business more... But dead... Did he suffer from the heart? Nah, he was still a youngster!” The group of old earth ponies remained quiet for a while, all the gusto and vigor they had. “Well, Ah expect we’ll still have a little while before they come to bother us ‘gain...” The blue pony said, his dry humour not touching any chords. Only the sound of the blue pony’s drink sliding across the counter was heard for a few seconds as he stared at the bottom of the glass.

Sleuth shook his head. “No, actually all the heads of that company are dead.” Every eye snapped to him suddenly.

“What do you mean?” asked Holmes, his maroon brow furrowing.

“They were murdered, in Mister Conan’s household.” Sleuth informed them, dropping his false accent as he did so. “My name is Sleuth Eye, a detective from the Canterlot Royal Guard...”

The silent hoofsteps that had, until then, been approaching Sleuth froze, then, with lots of scraping against the wooden floor and the loud clanging sounds of a metal basket hitting the ground. The hoofsteps spun around, galloping away, only to be interrupted by the ringing of the door’s two little bells.

Sleuth Eye calmly adjusted his hat, not bothering to look behind him. “So, boys, who was that?”

The maroon pony looked between the exit of the store and the detective. “That was... Flim? Maybe Flam...”

Sleuth nodded. Calmly, he walked towards the exit, stopping beside a flipped metal basket. He bent over, examining the object. Food, mostly fruit and a few pieces of candy, lay sprawled across the floor. With a quick tap of his hoof, the detective flipped the basket back over, revealing more of its contents: a loaf of bread and some canned food.

The detective sighed as he got up, tipping his hat forward against the bright rays of the sun that glared through the shops windows. “So, this -Flim?- fellow... What’s he do?”

“Are--” began the blue pony, all brashness gone from his voice. Marple’s glass was now empty. “Are they really dead?” Sleuth nodded. “Wait! How do we even know that you’re legit”

“You daughter left you a few years ago, called you a bigot, probably married a unicorn, wife died recently, heart failure? You’ve been drinking a lot, and bullying these fine young gentlecolts. And yet they still endure you... Now will somepony please tell me who that was?” Sleuth stomped at the ground.

“B-but, how?” Marple stammered, alternating between giving the detective bewildered look and asking support from the other old ponies with his eyes.

“Marks on the counter from your cup, you always drag it the same way, the other ponies let you speak all the time despite having different opinions. They respectfully listen to you and don’t interrupt, they have pity in their eyes. And your loathing of unicorns is unwarranted.” Sleuth began hopping from one hoof to another impatiently. “Now will someponyplease tell me?!”

While the blue pony stared blankly at his empty drink, Holmes slipped out of his seat, patting Marple on the back as he did so. “That was one of the Flim Flam brothers. They came to town a few weeks back, tried to sell some new-fangled steam heater. Had a song ‘n everything. It was nice... Not sure why they’d want to sell us a heater, we live in the desert...  Anyway, they were all ready to set up -actually sold a few models- and it was catching on. The Conan came to town...”

Sleuth smiled before trotting over to the maroon pony. “Thank you, sir, you may have just saved a life!”

Holmes’ face became a deep shade of red as the detective galloped out of the room.

Sleuth Eye’s trench coat billowed out behind him as he ran, flapping and slapping against his sides as he twisted and turned around the ponies that milled around the town’s main road. The smell of fresh apples permeated the air as laughter and small chat bellowed and fluctuated.

Sleuth Eye caught all of it as his hooves thundered down the road. Far ahead of him, a tan-coated unicorn with a thick orange moustache gallope, kicking up dust as he weaved and bobbed through the town. The bright, coat-wearing unicorn screached into a turn, squeezing in between two buildings as Sleuth Eye lost sight of him.

Hurrying his pace, the detective shouted out small ‘Sorry’s’ and ‘Get the hay outta my way,’ as he hopped over and skidded around ponies and carts. Finally, he reached the crack in between the buildings and dove in.

A blur of bright red shot towards him, narrowly missing his head to smack against the nearest building with a dull booming thud. Pieces of fresh apple rained on the detective's hat as he quickly tried to spot his antagonist.

A dozen meters away, partially hidden behind a large warehouse, one of the Flim Flam brothers stuck his head around the corner. His horn glowing a menacing green, a green hue also present around three more apples that whizzed towards the detective.

The earth pony dropped to the ground, avoiding the first fruity projectile as it scraped the edge of his fedora. Grunting, he pushed against the muddy ground, rolling to avoid the other two apples-turned-bullets.

Chunks of the fruit splattered across the ground while the detective got up once more, galloping to the warehouse and around its corner. The building’s great wooden doors were partially opened; fresh hoof prints marked the sand as they lead into its dark interior.

Panting slightly, the detective’s eyes narrowed as he silently strode into the warehouse. Inside, dark, ominous forms and abstract structures littered the ground, the centre of the large room being taken up by a gaudily-painted red locomotive on cart wheels adorned with its very own steam engine. The air was permeated with the thick aroma of grease and oil.

Sleuth Eye snuck forward. Hoofsteps lightly crunching against the gravelly ground. “He’s here!” whispered a voice that echoed off the thick walls.

“Who is?” asked another, this one not bothering to hide his presence.

“A royal guard, a detective... Goddess, he’ll find the kid! C’mon, Flim, we have to get rid of him!” The first voice’s loud hisses bounced around the room.

“This is a jest... Right?” The second voice, presumably Flim, now sounded nervous, almost afraid.

Sleuth Eye took another step, his hoof tapping against a nearby tool, sending it clacking on the ground.

“He’s here?!” exclaimed both voices at once.

“What should we do?”

“What about the kid?”

“I think he was alone...”

“Alone... No backup?”

A green glow splashed against the back walls of the room, illuminating the darkness as two thin, tall forms appeared. “We could just knock him out...”

“Do you still remember that memory spell?”

“Of course my brother!” A lever on the enormous machine at the centre of the room glowed before clicking upwards.

A series of bright lights flicked on, blinding the detective who pulled his coat in front of his eyes. “I’d mention that you’re both under arrest for the murder of over a dozen ponies and the foalnapping of a colt... But that would be wasted on the likes of you... Wouldn’t it?” Sleuth asked, glaring through the lights and at the indistinct form that stood on the machine.

“Murder? We just scared him a little!”

The machine roared to life, a thick tube tipped by a large metallic funnel twisting around and pointed towards the detective. With a rumble a brown-ish apple flew out, whistling through the air before bursting a hole through the wooden wall.

“You missed, Flam!”

“Sorry, Flim. I’ll get him this time.” The tube shook, slowly adjusting itself until Sleuth Eye could see down the insides of its barrel.

Not wasting a second, the detective hopped to one side just as the machine began spraying apple after apple. Running as quickly as he could, Sleuth Eye hopped over workbenches and slid past chairs, leaving a trail of destruction and apple chunks as the little red projectiles smashed against them.

Panting, he dived behind a tool rack, cringing as a dozen thuds sounded out only inches away from him. The rack shivered under the constant impacts, then stilled.

Sleuth Eye leaned against the strong metal board, his chest heaving and huffing as he caught his breath. From the other side, he could hear the two brothers muttering loudly to one another. Placing a hoof on the upper edge of the rack, the detective slowly pulled himself up, catching a glimpse of the other side.

Flim and Flam were both looking towards him, illuminated by the glow of their horns and small slivers of sunlight that poked through the boards that made up the roof. Small motes of dust floated about almost joyfully despite the seriousness of the situation.

“So, you two get a high off of this?” he asked.

The board shook violently as another apple bashed against its side. “What do you mean?! Are you insulting us? All we wanted was a fair chance on the market, an opportunity... Mister Conan didn’t allow that!”

Sleuth Eye shifted around behind the board, making himself a little more comfortable. “You didn’t need to kill him for it...”

The two hesitated a little before answering. “Kill him?”

Sleuth shook his head, despite knowing that they couldn’t see him. “Yes, kill him. He’s dead. And so are seventeen other ponies. And now you’ve foalnapped his son...”

“We didn’t have a choice!”

“The foal did take the poison!”

“And we didn’t kill anypony!”

“You’re a liar!”

The two brothers continued screaming at the detective while he looked around. A few greasy tools lay strewn about the floor, collecting dust as they rusted. Planks and spare pieces of wood were stacked haphazardly around the place. In one far corner a cage of sorts had been built and fresh sawdust dotted the floor near it in neat little piles.

The detective rubbed his forehead with a quick swipe of his hoof. Squaring his shoulders he huffed once, a small puff of air flowing in the lukewarm room. With the loud clops of his hooves striking against the wooden floor, he galloped forward, hopping over piles of wood and discarded tools.

“Brother!” yelled Flim, his horn glowing brightly as the tube swung over head, the powerful steam engine under the brothers rumbling as it began pumping out a steady stream of apples.

Sleuth Eye ran past the machine, his eyes scanning the approaching cage. With a powerful leap, the earth pony jumped forward, skidding to a stop in front of the wooden cell’s open door. Inside, the small form of a unicorn foal lay on a small pile of straw, eyes glazed over as it blankly stared at the detective. “C’mon kid!” screamed Sleuth Eye as he reached a hoof forward.

A bright green light appeared beside the foal as one of the Flim Flam brothers materialized. “Leave us alone!” he yelled, baring his teeth as he shoved the foal aside. Hot air hissing through his teeth as he hissed.

Sleuth Eye looked at the brother, then towards the approaching stream of apples. Without hesitation he ran forward, ramming Flam aside and grabbing the foal by the scruff of its neck.

The detective ran out, the foal bouncing as he held him. The thumping of apples on wood became louder and louder as the steady stream approached. He ran, vainly trying to escape the certain death behind them. Suddenly, Flam appeared before him again, green light slowly fading to nothingness as the unicorn smirked cruelly towards the detective, his chest rising and falling as he panted.

Click

Turning, the detective faced down the heavy machine’s barrel. “blast,” he whispered.

Eighty soldiers snuck around the building, their armour glinting in the sunlight as they stood poised to strike. Within, loud booms and thuds ran out, occasionally accompanied by undecipherable screams.

“Should we move in sir?” asked Cross. This time four notebooks floated in the red glow of his magic. The unicorn and the lieutenant sat beneath the balcony of a nearby building, the owner of which was very glad to loan it to them after seeing the veritable army of Royal Guards.

News had spread quickly, aided along by the continuous flow of sky carts that rolled in gentle circles above. Gawkers stood nearby, hooves protecting their eyes from the sun’s rays as they tried to figure out what was going on. Murmurs and questions flew around in loud hushes as the tension slowly rose.

“Nah, let him squirm a little more,” said Stiff Order. A hoof rose up, bringing an ice-cold glass of fresh water to his lips. After a few gulps the lieutenant pulled the cup back, smacking his lips in satisfaction. “Just a few more minutes...”

A particularly loud bang sounded out as an apple smashed through the warehouses wooden walls. The red blur flew in a straight line, only stopping as it slammed the armoured helm off one of the soldiers heads.

“Now, sir?”

“Yup!”

The unicorn closed his eye. Within a second his entire body was surrounded in a red cocoon, only to disappear in a flash. Four notepads hit the balconies floor with as many tiny thumps.

Sleuth Eye looked up to the smiling unicorn. “Sorry, detective, this is it!” Flim exclaimed, eyes half-lidded as he cackled in an almost insane fashion.

A bright red flash illuminated the entire room in a brilliant glare. As the light dissipated, Sleuth Eye looked right into Cross’ face. “Hello, detective Sleuth Eye. May I be of assistance?”

A huge smile made its way across the detective's face. “I think I love you... Now get us out of here!”

With a zap three ponies vanished, leaving the brothers to stare at where the foal and detective had been moments ago.

“Now what, brother?” asked Flim.

Before Flam could answer the door to the warehouse burst open as over a dozen ponies of the Royal Guard galloped in, bright and well-sharpened weapons in tow. “I think we surrender...”

Sleuth Eye sat on the flowing green grass, a blanket slung over his shoulders. Around him, guards were trotting around, most with parts of their armour removed as they fanned themselves against the oppressive heat.

Nearby, a sky-cart filled with medical equipment was looking over the young foal;, doctors brought in from Canterlot sat around and waited as their only patient was being cared for by two other doctors.

Somepony sighed behind Sleuth Eye. “You did it...” said a meek voice.

Turning, the detective looked behind him. There, Stiff Order stood, nodding quietly to the detective. With slow measured steps the pony sat beside him. “So, you ever going to tell me how you figured it out?” asked the lieutenant.

One of Sleuth Eye’s eyebrows rose. A hoof snuck upwards, tipping his fedora forward under his bushy hair. “Really? Never thought you’d be the one to ask...”

“Well, I want to catch you on the spot, maybe you’ll slip up and say something stupid... So, how did you know it was them?”

“I didn’t.”

It was Stiff Order’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

The detective barked a small laugh. “Well, I had a few good clues. Appleloosa because of the letter, a business pony that had ventures here because of what I found at Whodunit Industries. The cherry on top was the kid’s food he dropped at the store, not to mention running away like that.”

Stiff Order exhaled slowly, closing his eyes he tilted his head backwards and into the sunlight. “That simple, huh?”

“That simple... What will happen to them?” Sleuth Eye squinted, looking at the two brothers that were being loaded into a skycart whose back end was a thick metallic box.

“Justice system will take care of them, I really wouldn’t want to be one of the princesses.” Sleuth nodded, grunting as the lieutenant mentioned the alicorn sisters.

An awkward silence stretched over them as birds sang and flew about.

“I’ve been meaning to ask...” started Stiff Order, “Why do you have a towel wrapped around you?”

Sleuth Eye shot him a look of indignation. “It’s a blanket, not a towel, and the doctor gave it to me.”

“Uh-huh...”

“Look, I couldn’t refuse, the poor guy just broke up with his wife...”

Stiff Order sighed, rubbing the side of his head with a forehoof. “I shouldn’t have bothered...” With a small grunt, the lieutenant got up, stretching his limbs as he did so. “Well, it was a... pleasure working with you, we’ll see each other again... Maybe you could teach me how you do it?”

“You’d need a few thousand years.”

The moonlight sPlashed agaInst the marble floors of the gigantic room, a small breeze sneaKing through a crack in the towers window, bringing with it scents of the great garden beLow.

At thE winDow, taking grEat puffs of frEsh air, was a tall white alicorn, eyes closed and nose flarinG aS a gentle smile creased her lips. “Hello,” she said in a sweet yet authoritative whisper.

Behind her was a figure, clad in a dark trench-coat and wearing a slightly tattered fedora on his curly-haired head. “Hello, Sister.” A smile creased his face, teeth glaringly white in the moonlight.

“So...” asked Celestia, hooves clopping on the solid floor as she turned and faced the intruder. “How was it?”

Sleuth Eye trotted to the princess’ bed, a massive structure built for the tall alicorn. With a small hop he crashed onto the sheets, little pillows falling off the edges. “It was fine, I was even scared for a little while... Next time I’ll be a unicorn, not having magic is a pain.” The stallion twisted onto his back, staring up at his hooves.

“I’ll take it you had fun?”

“A bit, it was very exciting!” Sleuth Eye twisted his head backwards, looking up to the tall princess. “You were okay with the moon? It didn’t act up, did it?”

Instead of answering the princess looked down at him, one eyebrow raised. “You look silly as a stallion...” she finally said.

Sleuth Eye giggled lightly. Suddenly, his body was wrapped in a bright purple cocoon, dark wings unfurled along his back, each feather stretching and shivering slightly. His hat was thrown off as a thick long horn burst forth from his forehead. Limbs began to stretch and elongate as they turned a dark indigo. His curly mane straightened out before it began to float delicately in the air, as if carried by a non-existent wind.

“Ahh,” sighed Luna, squirming about on her sister’s bed. “Much better.”

Celestia leaned over her sister, looking into the dark pools that were her eyes "Tell me, Sister, why do you do this?"

Luna hummed for a few seconds, tapping her chin with a long, thin forehoof. "Because I want to help. And, unlike you, my dear sister, I don’t like being there...”

“Being... there? Luna, I don’t think there’s a way you couldn’t be ‘there’ more than any more than that brash disguise. Really now, one of these days you’ll get hurt. Well, you’ll almost get hurt, then you’ll have to reveal yourself. Honestly, I should be allowed to have some fun too!” The princess of the sun tapped her younger sister on the shoulder.

Luna’s head lolled over to one side, snores whispering lightly as her chest rose and fell with even precision.

Celestia sighed. “Good night, Detective Luna...” Smiling gently, the eldest silently crept out of the room.

A smile creased Luna’s face. “I can read you like a book, Sister.”

First things first, how many of you noticed the double the the in the first paragraph?

Big thank you to the following epic ponies:

Arcainum - Editing

Millennial Dan - Pre Reading

Citrus Greenplate - Pre Reading

Sorren - Pre Reading

Cover Art By:

http://warepwn3.deviantart.com/

This fic was practice on how to use subtlety within descriptions. It’s also Arcainum’s fault, he made me watch Sherlock...

Easter Eggs, easter eggs everywhere!

First Suc-- dedicated fan, to find Inky gets their OC in either my next fic, or the next chapter of Of Steam Gears and Wings.