Sheerluck Hooves

Chapters

A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER TWO: The Arcane Science of Deduction
A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER THREE: The Roseluck Garden Mystery
A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER FOUR: What Chatterbox Had To Tell
A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER FIVE: An Advertisement Brings A Visitor
A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER SIX: Princess Twilight Shows What She Can Do
A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER SEVEN: Light In The Darkness
The Sign Of The Four, CHAPTER ONE: A Mare's Request
The Sign Of The Four, CHAPTER TWO: The Balding Stallion & The Four
The Sign Of The Four, CHAPTER THREE: ++++
The Sign Of The Four, CHAPTER FOUR: The Whinnyapolis Accent
A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER ONE: Mister Sheerluck Hooves

A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER TWO: The Arcane Science of Deduction

“I'm not a psychopath, I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research.”
― Sherlock Holmes ,'Sherlock' (TV series)

Sheerluck had returned home much later that same evening, after Derpy and Time Turner had gotten off work and had picked up Dinky from school.

The unicorn stallion was a right mess. His mane tousled, a fairly large rip in his Inverness cape, and mud caked on his hooves. Immediately, Sheerluck had gone upstairs to bathe while the Doctor gave a meaningful look to his wife. She only shrugged and went back to baking several muffins. Dinky was sitting at the kitchen table, doing her homework.

Moments later, they heard a splash and a thud. After several moments of cursing coming from upstairs and exchanging looks of concern, Sheerluck called down to them.

“I’m alright!”

Both adults shrugged and resumed their activities. Some time later, the muffins were done and Sheerluck had finished his bath. The stallion sat with the others in a bathrobe, his mane still dripping onto the wooden floors. The silence in the kitchen was agitating Time Turner, so he decided to break the ice.

“So, Sheerluck, where exactly do you live in Great Bridleton?”

“My flat would be 211B Baking Street.”

“Ah.”

More silence. Time Turner swore to himself that he could hear a pin drop.

“So… um… Sheerluck, have you finished unpacking?”

“I have.”

“Very good. Any troubles?”

“None at all.”

“Very… good.”

Time Turner decided to just shut his mouth and act like Sheerluck wasn’t even there. The unicorn stallion seemed to appreciate that.

Sheerluck Hooves was certainly not a difficult stallion to live with.

He was a very quiet pony, and his habits were oddly normal for such an odd character. It was rare for him to be up after ten at night, and he would have eaten breakfast and been long gone before anypony in the Hooves family awoke in the morning. Sometimes he would spend his day working beside Time Turner quietly in the Doctor’s laboratory, sometimes taking exceptionally long walks, which appeared to take him anywhere and everywhere from Canterlot to the darkest corners of Appleloosa.

Once and awhile, Sheerluck would converse for a short time with any of the members of the family. The topics of these conversations were usually more like interrogations, with Sheerluck extracting vast amounts of information from them.

The Doctor felt his curiosity steadily grow. He had the intense urge to follow Sheerluck. To find out what he did on his long walks that usually lasted him until late at night and usually brought the stallion back in a terrible state. Occasionally the stallion would come home with chemicals and ink all over his hooves and in his mane.

But every conversation Time Turner tried to have with Sheerluck seemed to go about in this way:

“Hello, Sheerluck!”

“Hello, Doctor.”

“How are you today?”

“Excellent. Goodbye.”

“Oh… well, goodbye. I guess.”

Mealtimes were more sullen and quiet than they normally were. However, a night about a week after Sheerluck had come to live with them, Time Turner decided to change that. He was going to strike up a nice conversation with Sheerluck, even if it killed him.

“So, Sheerluck.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Tell me more about yourself.”

“Why?”

“Why…? Well… I just want to have a nice little chat with you!”

“Very good.”

“So… um… Princess Celestia’s sunrise today was a good one. She made sure to make it extra colorful. What did you think of it?”

“Your Princess raises the sun?”

“Yes?”

“Is that a question to my question?”

“No… yes… I mean, of course she raises the sun. Who doesn’t know that?”

“Huh. I always fancied that the world went around the sun, so no pony would have to go about raising and lowering it. Well, now that I know, I’m going to have to struggle to forget about it.”

“Bu- Wai- What?!”

“I see you are surprised.”

“Of course I am! Why would you want to forget how the sun rises every day?”

“Why would I not, you mean. It’s just useless information irrevelant to my work. The brain can only hold so much information, and I plan on keeping only the most relevant of such.”

“What is your work anyways? You say you work for Trotland Yard, but what are you doing here?”

Sheerluck went silent. And with Sheerluck, so did the conversation. Time Turner feared for a dreadful moment that he had angered the stallion.

The next few days, the Doctor made a point to draw up a list of Sheerluck Hooves’ knowledge and how far it extended. Fortunately for him, the list was easily made, since the detective was very expressive in his talents. So the list that Time Turner drew up of his limits was quite extensive:
‘SHEERLUCK HOOVES - his limits.
1. Knowledge of Literature. - Knows nothing of it
2. Philosophy. - Knows nothing of it
3. Astronomy. - Knows nothing of it
4. Politics. - Almost none.
5. Botany. - Variable. Well up in poisons generally. Knows nothing of practical gardening.
6. Geology. - Practical, but limited. Tells at a glance different soils from each other.
7. Chemistry. - Profound.
8. Anatomy. - Accurate.
9. Current events - Immense.
10. Plays the violin well.
11. Is an expert hoof-fighter.
12. Has a good practical knowledge of Bridlish and Equestrian law.’

Eventually, the daunting task of counting up Sheerluck’s talents exhausted Time Turner. The Doctor just crumpled up the list and tossed it away in defeat.

Time Turner knew he had misjudged Sheerluck’s violin talents. The stallion could play the most beautiful and most complex of pieces for hours on end without tire. Occasionally a member of the family would make a request for a song. In that case, Sheerluck would actually smile and oblige to perform the work, no matter how complicated it was. When they came home to find him there alone however, Sheerluck would almost never be playing. It was odd behavior to withhold.

They would come home to find him half-asleep in a chair. Every so often they would find him scraping at the violin’s delicate strings with his hooves, but he would usually stop this peculiar behavior once they made their presence known to him.

Then ponies began to visit him.

Not Time Turner. Not Derpy. Not even Dinky’s friends. But visitors who came to see the renowned Sheerluck Hooves.

Sometimes it would be the same dark stallion wearing a pinstripe suit. Other times it would be a member of the Royal Guard. Once a filly around Dinky’s age had come to visit and ask of him several things which Sheerluck made sure the Hooves could not catch word of. And within the hour, the magician Trixie the Great and Powerful came, asking for Mister Sheerluck Hooves. Immediately after Trixie came Granny Smith, who also sought Sheerluck’s attention.

An elderly stallion who claimed to be from The Manehattan Times came to interview him, which made Time Turner think that Sheerluck could be something of a celebrity in Great Bridleton. Of course, Sheerluck did not so much as acknowledge the Doctor when he asked him. Then one of the conductors of the Ponyville Express would come along, seeking his guidance.

Whenever anypony came to see him, Sheerluck would barricade the sitting room from the other members of the household for up to hours on end. Eventually, Time Turner confronted Sheerluck.

“I’m sorry,” the grey stallion had said, “but as I am here for some time, I have moved my place of business to that room. These ponies are not friends, they are my clients.”

Time Turner took this chance to ask Sheerluck about his occupation.

“Clients? Place of business? What exactly do you do, Sheerluck?”

The unicorn had remained stock-still for several moments. As if contemplating whether or not to tell them.

“I am indeed a private investigator, but not for Trotland Yard. I am self-employed. I am merely used as a consultant for Trotland Yard.

“And with me I have brought a great deal of criminal activity.”

A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER THREE: The Roseluck Garden Mystery

“The game is afoot.”
― Arthur Conan Doyle, Adventure of the Abbey Grange

Time Turner woke fairly early one morning, not but ten days after Sheerluck had come to stay.

When he awoke, he found his wife Derpy still fast asleep beside him, snoring softly. He bent over and kissed her forehead gently before carefully getting up and sneaking downstairs to grab a bite to eat. When Time Turner reached the kitchen downstairs, he was only moderately surprised to see Sheerluck already there, sipping hot tea and reading the Ponyville Confidential.

“Ah, good morning, Doctor.” Sheerluck greeted him merrily.

“Morning, Sheerluck. Any tea left?”

“In the pot, yes.”

The toaster let out a ding and seconds later Time Turner saw a pair of toast float by in a levitation field. The Doctor watched the cooked bread make its way to Sheerluck, who immediately devoured a piece while placing the other on his plate. As he crunched on his toast, Time Turner finished pouring his tea and sat across from Sheerluck at the small table.

Sheerluck looked up at the Doctor, raising an eyebrow. Time Turner swore he saw a mischievous twinkle in the grey unicorn’s eyes. Sheerluck said nothing, however, and simply went back to reading. Time Turner glanced across the cover of the newspaper. Nothing actually perked his interest. But the paper was a school production that his daughter worked on, so he always made sure to give it a glance or two every now and then. Suddenly Sheerluck began to speak.

"From a drop of water," he said in a lecturing tone, "anypony could deduce it being from an ocean or a waterfall without having seen or heard of one or the other. All of life is a great chain and the nature of which is known whenever we are shown a single link of it. Like all other arts, the science of deduction and analysis is one which can only be acquired by long and patient study nor is life long enough to allow any mortal to attain the highest possible perfection in it. Let him learn at a glance to distinguish the history of the stallion, and the profession to which he belongs. By a stallion’s coat, by his mane style, by the flaws in his hooves, by his cutie mark, by his expression. By each of these things a stallion’s calling is plainly revealed."

“Um… What?”

“It is an article I plan on writing for this paper. On deductions.”

“Deductions?”

“The same technique I used to identify your profession about a week and a half ago. Cracks on your hoof. Cutie mark as an hourglass, mane styled to prevent it from getting tangled in machinery. Darting eyes. Evident of a creative mind and that of an inventor. It’s elementary.”

“Ohhh… You’re good.”

“I know.”

Sheerluck gave the Doctor a half-grin and returned to reading his paper. Time Turner was a very, very intelligent pony. But speaking to Sheerluck made him feel insignificant. Not good enough. Like he was inferior to Sheerluck Hooves.

“Anyways, Derpy is about to wake up. She’s a few minutes late to work.”

“What?!” Time Turner choked on his tea as he whirled around to check the clock mounted on the kitchen wall. It was indeed past time for his wife to get to the post office. Literally seconds after Sheerluck had made his statement known, Derpy came flying down the stairs (literally flying). She gave Time Turner a quick peck on the lips and waved goodbye to Sheerluck, who gestured in acknowledgement from his position behind the newspaper. As soon as the door slammed closed, Sheerluck’s voice emanated once more from behind the paper.

“I am expecting a client today. He messaged me yesterday informing me on a murder that occurred in Canterlot not too long ago. He is the new captain of the Royal Guard and his own detectives are stumped. He seeks me for consultation.”

“So why tell me?” Time Turner couldn’t help but ask.

“Because I would like for you to accompany me.” Time Turner heard the crunch of toast once again.

“But… I have to watch Dinky tod-”

“Taken care of. She will be staying with Miss Rarity and Sweetie Belle.”

“But I’m needed at the lab-”

“I assure you that your laboratory will not run away on two magical legs while you are helping me investigate this. Well, ninety-five percent sure. Get one of your ridiculous ties. You’ll want to look good for the Captain. Be ready to leave within the hour, if you please. Chop chop.”

Time Turner got out of his chair, leaving behind his teacup. He obediently went upstairs to his room to pick out a tie. When he had returned, he saw that Sheerluck had already pulled on his cape and deerstalker cap. And the damned bubble pipe was out again, making a splattery mess on the just-cleaned floors. Time Turner decided to ignore that. For the sake of his sanity.

Sheerluck led the still hushed Doctor out of the house and down the street. It wasn’t until they had boarded the Ponyville Express and were trundling down the tracks that Time Turner finally had his voice return to him.

“So what am I doing again?”

“You’ve seen things, Doctor. As a consultant, I may actually need a consultant.”

“Ah… what? Come again?”

“I saw the prototype for that time machine on the wall. I know you’ve built one that works. And if it works, then you have most certainly taken it on a joy-ride. When I heard that funny little drunk rambling about time travel in the Punch Bowl, I just had to make sure I checked that prototype once again.”

Time Turner silently cursed Carnegie Porter and his big, loud mouth. Sheerluck was smiling.

“But don’t worry. I have no intention of going gallivanting across all of time. I am perfectly fine here and now, thank you.”

Time Turner felt himself let out an involuntary sigh of relief. Sheerluck let out a soft chuckle, the first time the Doctor had heard him even give any sort of sound relating to happiness. Why was Sheerluck suddenly so energetic and excited? It was kind of on the borderline of being disturbing.

“Um… Sheerluck… Is there something… different about you today?”

“Yes, my dear Time Turner. Yes. Murder is what is different today! Real, bloody, messy murder!” Sheerluck grinned like a school-foal in a candy store, practically bouncing in the cushiony train seat.

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Yes!”

“Delightful.”

They trundled on, Sheerluck yammering away excitedly to Time Turner about the five stages of decay in graphic detail. The Doctor tuned out the over-excited detective and watch as Canterlot Castle creeped out from the approaching mountain.

The train made its stop on Mane Street. Judging by the excited way that Sheerluck was bouncing around, they had reached their stop. Before long, the Doctor was being partially led, partially dragged down the cobblestone street. They walked for quite some time. Sheerluck’s odd apparel and his strange manner of leading his comrade along drew in plenty of stares and gapes from high-class Canterlotian ponies. Sheerluck finally stopped (to Time Turner’s tremendous relief) before a garden, roped off by bright yellow tape and guarded by a pair of intimidating Royal Guards.

The sign over the garden’s entrance read ‘The Roseluck Garden’. Time Turner immediately recognized the garden as the one that supplies his friend Rose with her flowers and herbs. The dark stone walls of the garden bore an ill-omened look, more like a dismal tomb than a colorful garden. Inside, several pots and trenches filled with a rainbow canvas of flora played across the enclosed paradise. The entirety of the garden was still wet from the morning dew, the petals of several flowers wilting dramatically. Every so often a curious and nosy Canterlotian would peek over the walls, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever curious happenings were taking place inside.

Time Turner expected Sheerluck to start zooming about, studying anything and everything. Spouting whatever detective mumbo-jumbo that private investigators used on the job. Instead, he gazed about the garden with a huge grin plastered to his face. Almost like he was in love with the crime scene. Sheerluck would glance about vacantly at everything from the zinnias to the small insects buzzing about on the walls.

Time Turner followed the detective as he gave a jolly noise of approval. He trotted in the direction of several Guards. Twice he paused, smiling. There were so many hoof prints in the mud on the ground from the Royal Guards that the Doctor would have been very impressed if he had gleaned any information at all from them. But Time Turner had a feeling that Sheerluck was already solving the case. That the grey unicorn was simply trying to find the right time to impress as many ponies as possible.

A member of the Royal Guard, a white mare with a blond mane, approached us. She saluted Sheerluck, who merrily returned the gesture.

“Lieutenant Aryanne, sir. Please to meet you, Mister Sheerluck Hooves. The Royal Guard has heard many great stories about your work with Trotland Yard. We have left everything untouched. Do what you need to, but make sure you don’t do any damage to the body sir.”

Sheerluck raised an eyebrow at that remarked. The Lieutenant shrugged.

“Some of those great stories were a bit shady, Mister Sheerluck Hooves, sir.”

“Anywho, shady stories aside, you could have been a bit more careful with the hoof prints. It looks like a Buffalo Stampede went through here. Shameful. I could have already solved the case by now with the culprit’s hoof prints.”

The blonde guard squeed as she grinned sheepishly. Sheerluck simply shook his head and gave a nicker. He then beckoned Time Turner to follow. They walked past the small wall of Guards and came across the corpse.

The grim, motionless figure was that of a middle-aged Earth pony stallion. He was broad and muscular, and had the beginnings of a small wispy beard on his jaw. His eyes had clouded over as they stared blankly up into the sky. His mane and tail were dark and curly. His coat was an odd shade of yellow, his cutie mark having faded as he died. The stallion was dressed up in business wear, and a tattered top hat lay at his side. The poor fellow’s front legs were still curled up, as if ready to deal a kick to somepony. The expression still evident on the pony’s face was that of horror and maybe even hatred.

A decorated Royal Guard stallion, presumably the captain, studied the body along with Sheerlock.

“Where is the wound?” Sheerluck asked, beaming down at the corpse like it was that of a prize pumpkin.

“There is none.”

Sheerluck looked about. Time Turner made sure to do so as well. There was an awful lot of blood splashed over this one particular corner of the garden.

“Then the blood is not that of the victim, but that of the culprit.” Sheerluck was muttering to himself, staring intensely at the crime scene presented before him. Sheerluck moved about the dead stallion. Sniffing his mouth and pits, feeling the chest and throat. He shot a glance at the stallion’s hooves before giving a curt nod and turning to the captain.

“He hasn’t been moved at all?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well. He may be taken to the mortuary. Nothing else can be learned from him.”

The Guards called in a stretcher and they moved the body to it, making sure to cover the face. As the four strong Guards lifted the body, a ring toppled from it, clattering to the floor. Sheerluck immediately levitated it to his face, analyzing it.

“There’s been a mare here!” The captain exclaimed. “It’s a unicorn mare’s wedding ring!”

Everypony but the leaving Guards stared at the ring, obviously mystified by it.

“Well this complicates things.” A Guard mumbled. Sheerluck looked to the stallion with an oddly warm smile.

“Quite the contrary, my friend. I believe it simplifies things. What else was in his pockets, captain?”

“We have it all here," said the captain, pointing a hoof at a small pile of trinkets not too far off. "A gold watch. Gold chain, very heavy and solid. Gold ring, with masonic device. Gold pin. Leather card-case, with cards. Loose money to the extent of seven bits. Two letters - one addressed to Webber and one to Donut Joe."

“Addresses?”

“Equestrian Exchange, to be left till called for. They are both from Canterlot, Donut Joe operating a snack bar in-town and Webber working directly for Steampunk Industries. Both refer to a sailing trip to Great Bridleton. It is clear that this unfortunate stallion was to return to Manehattan."

“Any details about this Donut Joe?”

“None. He is on vacation, attending a donut festival in Fillydelphia.”

“So why not pursue him then? Is that not even the least bit suspicious?”

The Guard grunted in irritation while Sheerluck chuckled to himself. Sheerluck shot a glance at the bloody wall, and spotted something nopony had. He made sure to point out, that in the bloodstain by the body, the letters ‘RACHE’ had been scrawled out in rather poor handwriting. The Guards immediately began to argue about its meaning.

“So messy we didn’t even notice that!”

“Rache? I think I know a Rache!”

“Rache? Nonsense! The full word is Rachel! It’s an actual name. See that trickle of blood? The murderer wasn’t given time to finish writing out ‘Rachel’.”

“Now all we have to do is find that Miss Rachel! She’s bound to have been the one to do it!”

The arguing continued while Sheerluck simply shook his head.

“No no no, my dear fellows. It is not ‘Rachel’ and you will only be wasting valuable time finding this ‘Rachel’. Now, who found the body?”

“Chatterbox, sir. We had her put home a while ago. She was in a terrible state, having seen such horrors.”

“Address?”

“46 Starswirl Road.”

Sheerluck nodded curtly and gestured to Time Turner, who hadn’t spoken once this entire time.

“Come along, Doctor. We have a house to visit. I will tell you one thing that may help you in the case,” he turned now to the Royal Guards who were standing at attention, “There has been a murder, and the murderer is a stallion. He is fairly tall, in the prime of life, has small hooves for his height, wore coarse, square-toed horseshoes and smokes cigars. He came here with his victim in a four-wheeled carriage, which was pulled by a cabbie who had a single brand new shoe put on, the other three being old. The murderer has a florid face and his hooves are very unkempt. These are only a few indications, but they may assist you in locating him.”

The Guards looked at each other incredulously.

“And how was the murder done, sir?” One curious stallion asked.

"Poison," said Sheerluck Hooves curtly, and strode off. "One other thing," he added, turning round at the gate: "Rache,' is the Germane forrevenge;' so don't lose your time looking for this ‘Miss Rachel’."

With that he trotted away, with Time Turner in tow, leaving the Royal Guards open-mouthed behind him.

A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER FOUR: What Chatterbox Had To Tell

Sherlock: You're keeping a SCRAPBOOK. Only old ladies and pre-pubescent girls keep scrapbooks, John.
John: It's not a scrapbook, Sherlock. I'm collecting papers relevant to the cases. It helps me remember the details. And it was locked away in my desk drawer.
Sherlock: The lock on your desk drawer was insulting me with its pretense at security.
― Guy Adams, Sherlock: The Casebook

It was almost noon when Time Turner and Sheerluck left Roseluck Gardens.

Sheerluck Hooves led Time Turner to the curb, where he called upon a taxi. He ordered the stallion pulling it to take them immediately to the address given to them by the Royal Guard.

“There is nothing quite as refreshing as looking over first hand evidence," Sheerluck announced; "as a matter of fact, my mind is entirely made up on the case, but still we may as well learn all that is to be learned. No need to jump to conclusions so suddenly."

“Honestly, you already know who did it?” Time Turner said in disbelief. They had only been at the crime scene for under an hour, whereas the best of the Royal Guard had been there for several.

“There’s no room for any mistakes in my career. The very first thing which I observed on arriving there was that a cab had come previously, making two ruts with its wheels close to the curb. Canterlot had a particularly heavy rain last night, so those wheels that left such a deep impression must have been there during the night. There were the prints of the driver's hoofs, too, the outline of one of which was far more clearly visible than that of the other three, showing that the driver wore a new shoe. Since the cab was there after the rain began, and was not there at any time during the morning, it must have been there during the night. And therefore, that it brought those two ponies to the garden."

Time Turner could only shake his head in great bemusement. Sheerluck was a genius in all aspects of the word.

“How do you know what the attacker looked like?”

“Simple enough. squarish hoof-prints in the mud. Long strides. Blood etched in terrible writing, evidence that the murderer used his bare hoof to write out the word. Not too sure if he has a flushed complexion. I may have overstepped on that one. Mere foal’s play.”

“But why did the attacker and the victim come to the garden? Where did the blood come from? How did the attacker get the victim to take the poison? Where did the ring come from? Why did the murderer write in Germane?”

Sheerluck only smiled appreciatively at Time Turner. The Doctor assumed he had asked all of the right questions.

“Excellent questions, excellent. Allow me to answer them for you. The Germane word is one to throw off the police. A clever trap necessary making them think the murder was committed by a Germane immigrant. But no, it was not. The ‘a’ in ‘Rache’ was written in a distinctively un-Germane fashion.”

“You… are one very incredible pony.”

“Thank you, my dear Doctor,” Sheerluck flushed with pride and carried himself with an air bordering on arrogance. For a second Time Turner dared to believe that Sheerluck was a tad bit big-headed.

"I'll tell you one other thing," Sheerluck said, as if to reward Time Turner for his praise, "The victim and the murderer came in the same cab, and they walked down the sidewalk together as friends. When they got to the garden, they walked up and down the path; or rather, the victim stood still while the murderer trotted up and down. I could read all that in the dust. And I could tell that as he trotted, the murderer grew more and more agitated. Then the actual murder occurred. We have a good working basis on where to start. We simply must hurry up, for I want to go to this certain concert to hear Sapphire Shores this very afternoon."

Just as Sheerluck had finished speaking, they came to a stop before a dingy little shack at the edge of Canterlot’s fine city. It was clear that they were in a shantytown.

“That’ll be three bits, sir. An’ if ya want me ta stick around I can drive out later.”

“Yes, thank you,” Sheerluck replied, dropping three gold coins into the cabbie’s extended hoof. Then he led the Doctor past milling foals who were begging for bits to buy toys and trinkets. Sheerluck merely shooed them away before Time Turner could break out his wallet. When they reached the door of the shack, Sheerluck pounded at it with his hoof. They could hear blabbering and cursing from the other side. They heard a crash and the door flew open, revealing a small Earth pony mare with a yellow coat and a curly red mane. Her cutie mark was that of an open mouth, with what could be sound waves coming from them.

“Oh hello there, it looks like I have visitors! Delightful! I’m Chatterbox, I work for the gardens here at Canterlot, I’m guessing you’re the Guard here to question me further? Excellent! Then please, do come in,” she babbled, then turned to scream to the beggar foal, “SO YA WON’T HAVE TA PUT UP WIT’ THESE LITTLE RUNTS!”

The beggars scattered in fear. Chatterbox turned back to beam at the two. She ushered them into a raggedy sofa, while she sat in an extravagant dragon scale chair.

“Just tell us everything that you saw, Missus Chatterbox.”

“Oh it’s just Miss, sir. I’m a single pringle.” She shot a wink at Time Turner, who, being married, immediately felt uncomfortable. “Anyways, I work from ten at night to six in the morning. At eleven, there was a fight over at Sweetheart’s. Y’know that bar across the garden? But the fight was hushed before the bells for eleven stopped chiming. At one in tha morning it started to pour down rain somethin’ awful.”

She wiggled around in her seat, getting more comfortable. Time Turner shot a glance at Sheerluck. The detective was paying rapt attention to the blabbering mare and Time Turner’s respect for the odd stallion soared.

“As I was sayin’, I met up with Honey Melon, the beekeeper mare. Had a chat with her ‘fore she went and sold all of her honey mead to the blokes who run Sweetheart’s. Eventually we decided to take a walk, and went around the corner a few times. It was a pretty quiet night. When we came back, she and I parted ways. She went to sell her mead and I back to my work at the garden. I stood at the gate as I heard a commotion from inside the walls of the place. So then I decided to go back inside and see what the ruckus was-”

“You stopped before going inside? Why is that?” Sheerluck interrupted. He was now leaning forward in his seat, as if to drink the very words coming from Chatterbox’s chatterbox. Chatterbox, meanwhile, gave a little jump and squeal at the sudden interruption. It appeared that she did not like being hushed.

“Well… You see, sir, ever since that ghost pony attacked Canterlot…”

“From what I understand, Mister Shudderbones was shown to not be involved in the umbrum attack on the Princess. In fact, he was the one to banish the creature and save Canterlot. Please do not tell me you have prejudice against him because of his unfortunate choice of profession?”

“Oh.” For once, Chatterbox seemed speechless. “Well… I mean... “

“Please go on with your story.”

“Oh-Okay. Well, I was scared it was probably a ghost or an umbrum or whatever word you used. So I hesitated to go inside. I hadn’t seen anypony in the garden before I left for my walk. I’m guessing whoever went in did so while I out and about. So I went in and then… and then I saw…”

“You saw the corpse. You went and walked about it several times, knelt by it, and then was tempted to leave. Then, the good in you remaining, you decided to stay and watch over the body after you finally called for the Guard.”

Chatterbox leapt to her feet, eyes burning with suspicion.

“And where did you hide to find out all that? You seem to know a lot more than you ought to, Mister...”

“Hooves. Sheerluck Hooves.”

“Mister Hooves!”

Sheerluck laughed and levitated a business card out from his cape. He tossed it to Chatterbox, who blinked absently at it.

"Don't get me arrested for a murder I never committed," he said snidely, "I am one of the Diamond Dogs and not the Timber Wolf; The Captain of the Royal Guard will answer for that. Go on, though. What did you do next?"

Now calm, Chatterbox eased herself back into her chair. She pondered for a moment for resuming her tale.

“I saw it, I decided to make sure what it was that I saw. I thought it was a prank at first. But then I realized the body was all too real. So I sounded the whistle for the Guard. In minutes they came a-runnin’. I was told to go on home.”

“Were the streets empty? Did you see anypony else?”

"Well, it was, as far as anypony that could be of any good goes."

"What do you mean?"

Chatterbox broke out into a great smile. "I've seen many a drunk stallion before here in Canterlot," she giggled, "but never anypony as drunk as that colt was. He was at the gate when I came out, leaning up against the railings, and singin’ at the top of his lungs about Celestia’s New-Fangled Banner, or something like that. He could barely stand up straight on his own, far less help."

Time Turner paled. He felt an impending sort of feeling. Could it be?

“Describe him, please,” murmured Sheerluck thoughtfully. He was studying the pale Doctor closely.

Chatterbox scrunched her nose as she struggled to recall the memory.

“He had a tan coat. Black mane. Cutie mark was a pint of beer, no surprise there. He had a thick Cockney accent. And I swear I heard him rambling about a red-faced colt or something of the sort when I approached him.”

At that, Sheerluck practically leapt from his seat in excitement.

“Where did he go? What happened to him?”

“I daresay he went on home. The Guards were too busy to deal with a drunkard.”

“Well thank you Miss Chatterbox. It was a pleasure meeting you and a great help hearing from you. Farewell.”

“Bye!” Chatterbox called out as they left the house. Sheerluck led TIme Turner down to the curb where the cabbie was waiting. The cabbie smiled brightly as Time Turner tossed him a few bits as a tip. Then he rounded onto the Doctor.

“I believe you know our drunkard, Doctor?”

“All too well… I’ve gone… you know, travelling with him. He’s a friend of mine, I suppose. His name is Carnegie Porter, he lives with Roseluck, who owns the garden. Do you think he got a glimpse of the murderer?”

“Yes. Maybe even spoke with the murderer. Do you have the address?”

“Of course!”

“Then what are we waiting for? We have a mystery to solve.”

A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER FIVE: An Advertisement Brings A Visitor

"What is out of the common is usually a guide rather than a hindrance.”
― Arthur Conan Doyle

The morning had been fairly tiring for Time Turner.

Running about Canterlot. Interrogating an obnoxiously talkative mare. It was a lot of strain of the Doctor’s fragile psyche.

He felt no desire to interrogate yet another pony, and this time his best friend and the Ponyville drunkard. But he could not just go home and get some sleep, even if it was later in the afternoon. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the bloated face of the murdered stallion covered in blood. The word ‘RACHE’ scraped into the stones.

The more Time Turner thought about the crime scene, the more extraordinary Sheerluck's hypothesis, that the stallion had been poisoned, appear. He remembered how the detective had sniffed the dead one’s mouth, and had no doubt detected something which had given him the idea. But what if it wasn’t poison?

And whose blood was that which was splattered about on the ground? There were no obvious signs of a struggle, nor did the victim have any weapon with which he might have wounded an attacker. As long as all these questions were unsolved, neither Sheerluck nor the Doctor were confident that they would be getting any sort of sleep that night. Sheerluck’s quiet manner told Time Turner that he had already formed a theory which explained all the facts. But he couldn’t even begin to guess what that theory was.

Sheerluck returned to the Hooves household late that night. So late that Time Turner knew for a fact that the detective could not have only been attending his Sapphire Shores show. Sheerluck entered the sitting room where Time Turner was waiting, and as the detective sat down, the Doctor asked how the show had been.

"It was magnificent," Sheerluck replied, as he took a seat across from his friend, "Music is the epitome of what so little is good about ponykind."

“How poetic,” Time Turner commented, studying Sheerluck’s poker face, “What did you do after the concert?”

“I had an advertisement made in the papers.” Sheerluck tossed a copy of The Ponyville Confidential before the Doctor. On the ‘Lost & Found’ page was an ad that read:

‘In Canterlot, this morning," it ran, "a plain gold wedding ring, found in the roadway between the Sweetheart’s and Roseluck Garden. Apply Dr. Time Turner Hooves, between eight and nine this evening.’

“Please forgive my use of your name,” Sheerluck apologized sheepishly, “If I used my own, a few rather unwanted individuals would decide to meddle in our affairs. I hope you understand.”

Time Turner nodded as he read over the ad again. Then realization struck him.

“But we don’t have the ring.”

“That is true. But I have asked the police for a facsimile, and received seven. If anypony comes to call, you can provide one of these fakes.”

“Wow.” Time Turner was impressed with Sheerluck’s obvious plan, “And we wait until the murder comes to retrieve it?”

“The murderer or one of his accomplices. I think he will come himself, though. I have a feeling that he would risk anything to not lose this ring. I believe he may have dropped it while observing the stallion’s corpse, making sure he was dead. After leaving he realized the ring was missing. When he came back to find it, he instead found the Guard waiting. That was when he bumped into your intoxicated friend, riling him up. Then our dear Chatterbox met Carnegie while the stallion was singing and grumping about the understandably grouchy stranger.”

“So you think he’ll see the ad?”

“Oh most definitely. He needs that ring, and he will be searching for it with as much time as he has to spare.”

“But what about Carnegie?”

“We will use Mister Porter as a witness. Not everypony is important enough to interview directly, Doctor.”

“So what do we do when he comes?”

“You have any weapons?”

“Um… no?”

“Bah. Nevermind. Equestrians and your clean habits. I shall take him hoof-for-hoof then. He will be desperate, and could be up to anything. Anyways, go up to your family. Explain to them that they need to be out of the house for a few hours.”

Time Turner nodded in understanding and went to execute Sheerluck’s orders. When he returned, he saw Sheerluck reading a letter that Derpy had left for him.

“Ah yes,” said Sheerluck as he read, “the plot thickens. I have just had an answer to my letter to Great Bridleton. My view of the case is the correct one."

"And that is?" Time Turner asked eagerly.

"I will need to purchase some new strings for my violin," he remarked as Time Turner rolled his eyes, "Now prepare yourself. When the stallion comes, speak to him in an ordinary way. Leave the rest to me. Don't frighten him by looking at him too hard."

“It’s about eight now.”

“Indeed it is. He’ll be here any minute now.”

Using his magic, Sheerluck opened the door slightly and placed a key in the lock on the inside. Derpy and Dinky waved goodbye as they went off to visit Carrot Top, a friend of Derpy’s. Sheerluck took a seat in a chair and Time Turner sat on the sofa as they heard the sound of approaching hoofsteps. Sheerluck turned his chair to face the door as a voice called in.

“Hello? Anypony home?” Called a loud and raspy voice.

“Come in!” Time Turner replied. A look of surprise washed over Sheerluck’s features as he viewed what was definitely not our murderer.

An elderly unicorn mare with a light coat and a white mane entered, peering at the two. Time Turner had honestly been expecting a tall, violent stallion. Not a feeble old mare.

“I’ll be here for the ring. It belongs to my daughter, Sassy. She’s been married for about a year now. Her husband is with the Guard and he’ll be mighty disappointed to return to find his wife has lost her ring. If you need to know, she lost the ring when she went shopping up at the Canterlot Boutique-”

Time Turner produced the fake ring, holding it out to the crone.

“Will this be the ring?”

"Celestia be thanked!" cried the old mare; "Sally will be a happy mare tonight. That's the ring."

"Can I have your address?" Time Turner inquired.

"13 Donut Street. A weary way from here."

“The route from Donut to the Canterlot Boutique does not pass by Roseluck Gardens.” Sheerluck said sharply.

The old mare whirled around and glared at him with her baggy, dark eyes. "The gentlecolt asked me for my address," she said, snidely, "Sassy lives at 3 Mayflower Place."

“And your name is?”

“Diamond Dust. Her’s is Emerald Ore. Husband is Iron Ore. A smart, clean colt, as long as he's at work; but when off-duty, what with the mares and what with the pubs of Canterlot-"

Sheerluck motioned for Time Turner to give her the ring.

“Here’s your ring, Missus Dust.” Time Turner said. The mare levitated it from his hoof and nodded curtly to him. “It clearly belongs to your daughter, and I hope to return it to it’s rightful owner.”

The mare mumbled her thanks and shuffled out of the door, shutting it behind her. Sheerluck Hooves sprang to his hooves the moment the door clicked shut and galloped to his bedroom. He returned wearing his Inverness cape, his deerstalker cap, and a fresh cravat.

“We’re going to follow her,” Sheerluck announced, “it’s very likely she’s an accomplice and will lead us right to the murderer. Ready?”

Together, they trudged off into the chilly night and followed the already distant crone. The continued along until the lights of Ponyville had faded behind them. Time Turner recognized neither Donut Street nor Mayflower Place. The mare had been lying.

Then they both received quite the shock when the mare was suddenly enveloped in green flame. For a gruesome moment the Doctor thought that she too had been murdered by the madstallion on the loose. But horror and shock was soon replaced by revelation as what had previously been a mare exposed itself as an insect-like pony with translucent wings and holey legs and horn.

She had been a Changeling.

Author's Note

That twist though! Hope you all have enjoyed it so far. Those of you who have read the Sherlock Holmes books have recognized the patterns here. But now this is where the major MLP style comes in, thanks to the Changelings.

Will Sheerluck manage to identify the murderer?
What exactly is going on with the Changelings?
When will we see a Canadian Changeling?
How much longer can Time Turner tolerate Sheerluck's antics?

FIND OUT IN A STUDY IN SCARLET, CHAPTER SIX!
TWILIGHT SPARKLE SHOWS WHAT SHE CAN DO

A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER SIX: Princess Twilight Shows What She Can Do

“There is an undeniable exhilaration in moment of even the smallest discovery”
― Graham Moore, The Sherlockian

Equestria Daily
‘Tragedy strikes Canterlot as a murder had been committed in the very bowels of its business avenue. The strange activities relating to a possibly Germane murderer and the identification of the body as that of…’

The Canterlot Chronicle
‘A Germane assassination performed by an unknown assailant on an Equestrian victim by the name of…’

The Ponyville Confidential
‘Germane assassins and how they affect YOU! Ten tips by Germaney expert Aryanne…’

Time Turner read over the many articles spread out on the kitchen table while Sheerluck was slowly losing any remaining shreds of sanity he had left.

“Blast those bloody Guards! Blast Germane-phobia! Blast these reports! And blast the murderer! Hiring Changelings?! How the bloody Tartarus does one hire a Changeling anyways? They’re hive creatures; they can’t even be hired!”

“I don’t know, Sheerluck.” Time Turner said for the umpteenth time in a row. He and Sheerluck had stayed up all night, pondering about the Changeling agent hired by the murderer and waiting for the morning issues of the most important newspapers available. Derpy and Dinky had already awoken to go to work and school. Derpy kissed Time Turner goodbye and gave Sheerluck a great hug, which he had barely noticed.

“Now how are we supposed to figure it out? Changelings are involved. That takes everything we know about the case and throws it out the window.” Time Turner informed Sheerluck, who was so angry that all he could do was nod. Suddenly, the grey stallion burst into fits again.

“Oh, bless you, it doesn't matter in the least,” he shouted. Time Turner wasn’t sure if Sheerluck was being sarcastic or not. “If the murder is caught, it will be on account of their over-exertions; if he escapes, it will be in spite of their over-exertions. It's heads I win and tails you lose! Whatever they do, they will have followers. Fools always find bigger fools to look up to."

“So what are we going to do? Obviously the Changelings were hired. Because Changelings feed off pony emotions, but there are no records of a Changeling murdering a pony. So who hired them to steal the ring? And how did he hire Changelings?”

Sheerluck was silent as he pondered Time Turner’s questions. Then his face lit up like a lightbulb as he rose a hoof triumphantly into the air.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle has dealt with Changelings before, has she not?”

“She has.”

“Well then, maybe we should ask her on the behaviors of Changelings.”

With that, Sheerluck levitated his trademark cape and cap behind him as he pulled out his bubble pipe. This time, Time Turner didn’t mind the silly instrument as bubbles filled the air when they ran all the way to the Friendship Castle. When Time Turner had told the detective the name of the castle, Sheerluck had scoffed and muttered something about tactless Equestrians.

He reached up a hoof and pounded on the castle doors. Seconds later they were met by a grumpy purple baby dragon.

“Hello. Welcome to Friendshi-”

“We seek an audience with Princess Twilight Sparkle. This is an important demand regarding a murder that has occurred in Canterlot. We are investigators who seek information on Changelings.”

“Yeah and I’m Spike the Dragon. Why should I let you see the Princess exactly?” The dragon grunted. Sheerluck studied the baby while the Doctor gaped incredulously.

“Yes, you are Spike the Dragon,” Sheerluck said quickly, “you are insecure about your capabilities, so you take advantage of every method of control you possibly can. You have an intense crush on a mature mare with a purple mane. Your insecurities also make it hard for you to tell her, further explaining your hunger for power.”

Spike took several steps back, his mouth hanging open and his face suddenly pale.

“Ah so we can come inside now? Excellent.”

As they trotted together towards the main chamber of the castle, Sheerluck took the time to explain his deductions for Time Turner.

“The way the dragon carried himself and spoke indicated he was not ordered to question us. He was simply ordered to answer the door and he took it as a chance to make a loophole, where he would have some control over the matter. He also has purple hairs in his scales, long ones indicating a full-grown mare. And no full-grown mare would engage in any romantic activities with a prepubescent drake.”

“Incredible!” Time Turner praised.

“Elementary.” Sheerluck countered.

Waiting for them in the large decadent chamber was Twilight Sparkle. She was flying up among what appeared to be tree roots stretching down to a holographic map of Equestria surrounded by six thrones and a small stool. She noticed her visitors.

“Hello, how can I help you?”

“Changelings. Need information. A-SAP.” Sheerluck grunted. Twilight looked taken aback and she blinked for a good ten seconds before the Alicorn landed beside them and started lecturing them.

“Changelings are usually mindless creatures. They have a capability to think for themselves, but they always need somepony to take orders from. Their Queen. And the Queen controls them directly, via pheromones and speech. A Queen can accept payment to order her hive to perform duties, but that is rare. She usually only orders her hive about for personal gain.”

“So,” Sheerluck asked, “our suspect is presumed to have hired a Changeling Queen. From what you say, we can infer that he did not pay her in bits, but in promises. Now not only do we have to find the identity of our suspect, but we need to find out what sort of deal he has made with the Changelings.”

“It can’t be a good deal either,” Twilight added, “Changelings feed off pony emotions. Which means this ‘suspect’ you speak of is obviously exchanging help for ponies. Which means you need the Elements of Harmony to help you!” She puffed up her chest in pride and was halfway towards the cutie map when Sheerluck coughed loudly, attracting her attention.

“Actually, Princess. I would much rather catch the pony who is evading my client myself?”

“Your client? Who are you, anyways?”

“Sheerluck Hooves. Consulting detective. I was hired by the Royal Guard to find a murderer who has killed a stallion in the gardens of Canterlot.”

“Well listen here, Mister Hooves, if that is your real name, me and my friends wi-”

“Yes, yes. Friendship is magic. Lovey dovey. Let’s all hug.” Sheerluck gagged. Then turned to Time Turner. “Now we haven’t got much time. We need to catch our crook before whatever plans the Changelings have made with him are run into action. We don’t have time for the Friendship brigade to try and solve a mystery that I am more capable of solving myself. Let’s get going.”

“Hey! Friendship is one the most-”

“-powerful forms of magic. I know. But this isn’t magic. This is deductions and solving mysteries. Now please. I simply must find this murderer, so I can collect my paycheck and resolve whatever conflict is about to explode between Changelings and ponies.”

Just as Twilight opened her mouth to let off a retort, another pony burst into the room. She was panting and out of breath, but Sheerluck and Time Turner knew that mouth cutie mark from anywhere.

“Chatterbox? What the hay are you doing here?” Time Turner asked the usually talkative mare. Chatterbox continued to gasp for breath. Time Turner guessed she had ran all the way from Canterlot to get to them.

“I… I… I tried to get to your house… But you weren’t home… Somepony said they saw you come here… So I came… As quick as I could…” She slumped onto the floor, coughing.

“Chatterbox,” Time Turner said, putting a hoof on her shoulder, “What’s happened?”

“There’s… There’s…”

“What is it already? Spit it out.” Sheerluck demanded, getting impatient.

“There’s been another murder. Somepony’s killed the Captain of the Royal Guard.”

A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER SEVEN: Light In The Darkness

“Desultory readers are seldom remarkable for the exactness of their learning.”
― Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, A Study in Scarlet

They were greeted by Lieutenant, or rather the new Captain, Aryanne.

The somber nature with which she greeted the investigators was so momentous and so unexpected, that Chatterbox, Time Turner, and Sheerluck were fairly dumbfounded for the majority of their time at the crime scene. Time Turner stared in silence at Sheerluck Hooves, whose lips were compressed and his brows drawn down over his eyes.

“The Captain as well?” Sheerluck Hooves muttered, “the plot thickens!”

The former Captain’s office was covered in blood as well. ‘RACHE’ was more clearly visible over his desk, below the words was where his bloated body lay. Time Turner felt fairly sick, having but days ago joked with the captain at a scene quite like this one. About a scene quite like this one.

“Not a mere murderer… A serial killer.”

Sheerluck was studying the corpse, which was propped up in a chair instead of lying on the ground. He lifted up the head of the dead Captain, sniffing the inside of his open mouth. Time Turner gagged and looked away.

“A tourist claims to have seen the murderer. Even managed to get us a sketch artist to get a nice little drawing of him. We’re making wanted posters now.”

“Tell me how the tourist saw the killer.” Sheerluck ordered. Aryanne immediately rattled off the fine details.

"The murderer was seen by Miss Cheerilee, passing on her way to the hotel, happened to walk down the lane which leads from the mews at the back of the Royal Guard Headquarters. She noticed that a ladder was raised against this very window,” she nodded at the open window, “which was wide open. After passing, she looked back and saw a stallion descend the ladder. He came down so quietly and openly that Cheerilee imagined him to be some carpenter or joiner at work in this room. She took no particular notice of him, beyond thinking in her own mind that it was early for him to be at work. She has an impression that the stallion was tall, had a reddish face, and was dressed in a long, brownish cloak. He must have stayed in the room some little time after the murder, for we found blood-stained water in the basin, where he had washed his hands, and marks on the sheets where he had deliberately wiped his knife."

Time Turner glanced at Hooves upon hearing the description of the murderer, which tallied so close to his own. There was, however, no trace of exultation or satisfaction upon Sheerluck’s face.

“So where did the blood come from?”

“It… It came from the Captain this time, sir.”

Sheerluck’s eyes bugged and he immediately looked back at the dead stallion. Lifting up his head, he and Time Turner both saw that this time there was a deep cut in the stallion’s neck. This time the victim had been murdered directly. Not poisoned. Now Sheerluck looked a tad bit annoyed.

"Did you find nothing in this room that could furnish a clue to the murderer?" he asked.

"Nothing.”

“There was nothing else?" Sheerluck asked.

"Nothing of any importance. The Captain’s novel, with which he had read himself to sleep was lying upon the desk. There was a glass of water on the table, and on the window-sill a small chip ointment box containing a couple of pills."

Sheerluck Hooves sprang up with an exclamation of delight.

"The last link," he cried, exultantly. "My case is complete." Everypony in the room oogled at him in disbelief and surprise.

"I have now right here," Sheerluck announced, confidently, "all the threads which have formed such a tangle. There are, of course, details to be filled in, but I am as certain of all the main facts. I will give you a proof of my knowledge. Could you lay your hoof upon those pills?"

"Right over there," said Aryanne, pointing a hoof to a small white box. Sheerluck levitated the pillcase over to himself and popped it open. For several moments he looked over its contents before he started to merrily hum ‘Winter Wrap-Up’ to himself. Time Turner was not an expert on crime scene investigation, but he believed that humming in front of a corpse was somewhat disrespectful. But, of course, he did not pursue the matter, as Sheerluck had gotten to the front of the room and made an announcement.

“Exactly what I thought. These are not pills, but cleverly disguised Changeling venom. Rarely, a Changeling is born with the ability to produce poison, which can be used to kill ponies. But the poison here wasn’t working fast enough for the murderer, so he simply cut the Captain’s throat!” Sheerluck exclaimed merrily, “And I know who the murderer is! Or rather, who hired the murderer.”

Everypony in the room was hushed as they waited in bated breath for Sheerluck to reveal the murderer.

“The murderer was none other than Queen Chrysalis, the local Changeling Queen. She has one of her agents currently in the form of…” He pointed a dramatic hoof at Chatterbox, “you.”

“M-Me?”

“Oh don’t play innocent. You’re nowhere near as talkative as you should be. You are obviously a Changeling. You murdered the real Chatterbox after she spoke with us, and took her form in order to deliver your lie of a message. Now, you were ordered by your Queen to lead us here, back to the scene of the murder YOU committed.”

Chatterbox’s expression turned from that of a horrified gape into a mischievous leer.

“Well first of all, I wasn’t ordered by the Queen.”

A green flame erupted around not-Chatterbox. Sheerluck, Time Turner, and Captain Aryanne looked away from the bright fire as the tall looming figure revealed itself. A slender mare-like creature with long veiny wings and an equally long horn with a crown-like growth behind it.

Chrysalis.

“I was ordered by my client. As you are ordered by yours, Sheerluck Hooves.”

Sheerluck sneered at the Changeling Queen as she started to hover in the air. Time Turner and Aryanne were clutching each other like baby foals, gazing up in sheer terror at the monster flying before them.

“You were hired by Mortuary, weren’t you!” Sheerluck snarled. It was the most violent that Time Turner had ever seen Sheerluck.

“Maybe!” Chrysalis giggled. She began to skip in mid air towards the still-open window. She waved a hoof at Sheerluck. They were powerless against her. There was nothing they could do to stop her escape.

“Ta ta!” And with a green flash of light, she was gone.

Sheerluck was depressed.

Time Turner could sense that as they rode together in the cab back to Ponyville. Time Turner wanted to say something. Anything. To make his new friend feel better.

“Well… you cracked the case.”

“Oh, this is one of many, my dear Doctor. One of many to come. I should have known coming here would have attracted the attention of Mortuary.” Sheerluck mumbled glumly as he stared out the window into the dark night sky.

“Who is this Mortuary you speak of?”

“He is my rival. My enemy. A criminal mastermind. My intellectual equal. And he is here in Equestria, when I thought I had escaped his rule in Great Bridleton.”

“Tell me more about him.”

“His parents owned a morgue. Expected him to inherit it. Instead, Mortuary grew to be a successful business-stallion and a professor for the Trottingham University. He then used his newfound talents for crime.”

“Is… that it?”

“Unfortunately, yes. For now. Until he makes another move. He’s shown he already has control over the Changelings. Now we just wait for him to make himself known further.”

“What does that mean, Sheerluck?”

“We wait until the next misadventure, Doctor. Simple as that.”

The cab came to a halt before the Hooves’ household. Sheerluck tossed the cabbie a sack full of golden bits and together the stallions went up and stood by the doorstep. As Time Turner opened the door, they both saw Derpy and DInky noisily eating dinner in the kitchen. Time Turner went ahead and trotted in. He turned around to see Sheerluck still standing there. The Doctor shook his head and closed the door, leaving himself outside. Time Turner shrugged and went to enjoy dinner with his family.

Sheerluck Hooves stayed by the door for a full minute, listening to the merry sounds of the happy family. He then stepped down to the street. He took a deep breath of the cool night air. Then he kicked into a trot and vanished into the darkness.

He had work to do.

TO BE CONTINUED IN ‘PART TWO: THE SIGN OF THE FOUR’

The Sign Of The Four, CHAPTER ONE: A Mare's Request

“No, Sherlock doesn't need another brain. But he could benefit from an extra heart.”
― Guy Adams, Sherlock: The Casebook

Sheerluck Hooves took his bottle from the corner of the mantelpiece.

He took out a delicate shot glass from his suitcase. Sheerluck uncapped the bottle with his magic and began to pour some amber liquid into a glass. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon the old dusty bottle, all spotted and dinked with age. Finally, he drank down the shot, gave a little shudder and eye roll in delight, and then turned to sink into the sitting room couch.

Three times a day for the past month Time Turner had witnessed this performance, and wondered why Sheerluck Hooves drank alcohol in such an odd and peculiar way. Occasionally, Time Turner would have the urge to make some sort of protest against this behavior. Again and again he assured himself he would make his complaints known; but there was that in the cool, nonchalant air of Sheerluck Hooves which made him the last stallion with whom one would care to take anything approaching to a liberty. His great powers, his masterly manner, and the experience which Time Turner had had of his many extraordinary qualities, all made the Doctor diffident and backward in pissing off the strange genius.

Yet upon that afternoon, Time Turner suddenly found that he could hold out no longer. Something had to change.

“What is it this morning?” Time Turner asked coolly, “Bourbon whiskey or high-proof vodka?”

Sheerluck looked up with heavily lidded and dulled eyes from the dark book he had levitating before him. He raised an inquiring eyebrow at the Doctor, who imitated the gesture with grace.

“Neither. It would be high-concentration berrywine, made for me by that dear Carnegie Porter friend of yours. It is quite delectable. Care for a shot?”

“Ha! No, I would rather keep my sanity a tad bit longer, I’m sorry.”

Sheerluck smiled and shook his head, his short tidy mane becoming a bit unkempt.

“Perhaps you are right, Doctor," he said, "I suppose that its influence is physically a bad one. I find it, however, so relaxing and stimulating that it would be a crime in itself to not partake in such glorious action."

“Glorious my plot,” Time Turner snorted. Sheerluck chuckled aloud, and continued to read. "But consider! You’re obviously unfit for the consumption of alcohol! It seems to affect you in ways more devastating than to other ponies. Surely this tomfoolery is hardly worth the mere passing pleasure?”

Sheerluck did not seem offended. On the contrary, he put his front hooves together, and leaned forward in his chair his chair, like he was thoroughly enjoying the conversation.

"My mind," he stated boldly, "rebels at boredom. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram, or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with alcoholic beverages of all kinds. I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I have chosen my own particular profession, or rather created it, for I am the only one in the world."

“The only unofficial detective?” Time Turner asked.

“The only unofficial consulting detective.” He countered snidely. Sheerluck tossed the book away and studied Time Turner’s face. They were alone in the house, Derpy having gone to work and Dinky having gone to school.

“Something is different about you today.”

“Why do you say that?” Time Turner asked innocently. He prayed to Celestia that Sheerluck wasn’t smart enough to read past his sheepish poker face. Unfortunately, his prayers went unanswered.

“You’ve planned me a surprise birthday party today, haven’t you?”

Time Turner gasped and held a hoof to his chest in mocking horror.

“How ever did you know, Sheerluck?”

“Well besides the day that you have decided to start acting oddly is my birthday, there is also a piece of confetti stuck in your mane. And there’s a business card for a certain ‘Pinkie Pie, party planner’ on the kitchen table.”

“Sheerluck, you didn’t have to explain. I was only messing around with you.”

Sheerluck only grunted in reply. He did not look too pleased to be suddenly thrust into such an unexpected agenda. Time Turner got the sudden feeling that his detective friend and relative was not very appreciative of the future event. With a sinking heart, Time Turner confronted the tipsy Sheerluck on the matter.

“Sheerluck… Did you not want a party? It’s perfectly okay, I can call it off-”

“No, no. I will attend the event in my honor. Just don’t expect me to stay for the entirety of the celebration. There is still the business of locating Mortuary and putting a stop to his schemes.”

“Well, yeah, I know that… But he hasn’t done anything, he hasn’t killed anypony else! It’s perfectly fine, he’s been so quiet for the past few weeks…”

"Not at all," he answered earnestly. "It is of the greatest interest to me, especially since I have had the opportunity of to amount a certain number of informants who will be on the lookout for any criminal activity directly related to Professor Mortuary. I expect to find him before the week is through. Maybe even sooner. Then I shall confront him or else report his activities to the Royal Guard."

Time Turner nodded in approval. Going to the authorities is good. He recalled a few days ago when the Royal Guard had come knocking on his door, saying that there was a report of Sheerluck breaking into private property for the sake of investigation. When Sheerluck was found in the house, he was sitting upon his bed, reading a novel as if he had been in his bedroom all night. After that, Sheerluck had been a lot more friendly with the Guards, making sure to notify them before going on sudden and very much uninvited excursions into other ponies’ homes.

The two stallions sat in awkward silence before there was a knock at the door. Time Turner answered it, surprised to see the rather well-known supermodel Fleur Dis Lee standing there. He oogled at her for a moment before turning to Sheerluck, who was waiting patiently for him to announce the guest.

“It’s Fle- You have a client, Sheerluck.” Time Turner informed him, allowing the lofty white unicorn mare trot inside. The slender figure of the model was perfect, from the shine of her coat to the styling in her pink mane. Fleur Dis Lee entered the room boldly. When she noticed Sheerluck sitting there looking to her expectantly, her lip began to tremble, her hooves began to quiver, and she showed every sign of distress.

"I have come to you, Mr. Hooves," she said in a thick Prance accent, "because you once assisted my employer, Mr. Fancy Pants of Canterlot, to unravel a little domestic complication. He was much impressed by your ability."

"Fancy Pants," Sheerluck repeated thoughtfully. "I believe that I was of some slight service to the stallion. The case, however, as I remember it, was a very simple one."

"He did not think so. But at least you cannot say the same of mine. I can hardly imagine anything more strange than the troubles that I have come upon."

Sheerluck rubbed his hooves together eagerly, and his eyes glistened. He leaned forward in his chair with an expression of extraordinary concentration upon his clear-cut features.

"State your case," he demanded in deep business tones. Time Turner felt uncomfortable being in the room at the time, so he got up to leave and maybe make some tea.

"Excuse me," Time Turner muttered. To his surprise, the mare held up her hoof to stop him from leaving.

"If your friend," she said to Sheerluck, "could stay a tad bit longer, he might be of service to me as well." Time Turner gave a disgruntled sigh and slumped back into the chair. He honestly did not want to be sent off onto another misadventure so soon after the last one. But his manners got the best of him, and he listened almost as intently as Sheerluck was.

Fleur Dis Lee continued, "The facts are these. My father was an officer in the Royal Guard, who sent me to stay in Canterlot when I was a young filly. My mother was dead, and I had no relative in Canterlot. I was placed in a comfortable establishment at the Foal’s Home, and there I remained until I had recieved my cutie mark. In that year, my father, who was Senior Captain of his regiment, obtained twelve months' leave and came home to Manehattan. He sent word to me from his post in Fillydelphia that he had arrived all safe in Manehattan and directed me to come down at once, giving the Longhorn Hotel as his address.

“His message, as I remember, was full of kindness and love. On reaching Manehattan I took a cab out to the Longhorn and was informed that Captain Lee was staying there, but that he had gone out the night before and had not returned. I waited all day without news of him. That night, on the advice of Longhorn himself, I called upon the Royal Guard, and next morning we advertised his disappearance in all the newspapers. To this day nopony has ever heard of my unfortunate father. He came home with his heart full of hope to find some peace, some comfort, and instead-" She put her her hoof to her mouth, and a choking sob cut short the sentence.

"The date?" asked Hooves, carelessly tossing away his book.

"He disappeared nearly ten years ago. The first Monday of the year."

"His luggage?"

"Remained at the hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest a clue; some clothes, some books, and a considerable number of curiosities from the Seapony Islands. He had been one of the officers in charge of the convict-guard there previously."

"Had he any friends in town?"

"Only one that we know of. Major Sharpwits, of his own regiment. The major had retired some little time before and lived at Upper Manehattan. We communicated with him, of course, but he did not even know that his brother officer was in the city."

"A singular case," remarked Sheerluck.

"I have not yet described to you the most peculiar part. About six years ago, an advertisement appeared in Equestria Daily asking for the address of Fleur Dis Lee and stating that, and I quote: ‘it would be to her advantage to come forward.’ There was no name or address. I had at that time just entered the service of Fancy Pants and was starting my modeling career. By his advice I published my address in the advertising column that next day. The same day arrived through the mail a small cardboard box addressed to me, which I found to contain a very large and lustrous pearl. No word of writing was enclosed. Since then every year upon the same date there has always appeared a similar box, containing a similar pearl, without any clue as to the sender. They have been pronounced by an expert to be of a rare variety and of considerable value. You can see for yourself that they are very handsome."

She revealed a flat box as she spoke and showed Time Turner six of the finest and by far the biggest pearls that he had ever seen.

"Interesting," mumbled Sheerluck Hooves, "Anything else of importance that has occurred to you?"

"Yes, today. That’s why I came to you. This morning I received this letter, which you will perhaps read for yourself." She produced the same letter and levitated it to Sheerluck, who took it in his own spell and pulled it closer to himself to read.

"Thank you," said Hooves, and he immediately began rattling off facts about the letter, "The envelope, too, please. Thank you. Postmark, Manehattan, S. W. How interesting! Stallion’s toothmark on corner. Most likely the mailstallion. Best quality paper, envelopes like these go for six bits a packet. Particular stallion in his stationery. No return address.”

"’Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Manehattan Theatre tonight at seven o'clock. If you are distrustful, bring two friends. You are a wronged mare and shall have justice. Do not bring police. If you do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.’ Well, really, this is a very pretty little mystery! What do you intend to do, Miss Dis Lee?"

“That is exactly what I want to ask you."

"Then we shall most certainly go; you, I, and yes, why Time Turner here is the very stallion. Your correspondent says two friends. Time Turner and I have worked together before."

"You are both very kind," she answered, "If I am here at six it will do, I suppose?"

"Can’t be any later," said Hooves, "There is one other point, however. Is the hoofwriting on this letter the same as that upon the pearls’ addresses?"

"I have them here," she replied, showing half a dozen pieces of paper.

"You are certainly a model client. Get it? No?” Sheerluck looked to everypony in the room with an eager and joyous smile on his face. His smile and ears dropped as he sombered up and noded.

“You have the correct intuition. Let us see, now." He spread out the papers upon the table before them and gave little darting glances from one to the other, "They are disguised, except the letter but there can be no question as to the authorship. See how the irrepressible backwards-three e will break out, and see the twirl of the final s. They are undoubtedly by the same pony. I should not like to suggest false hopes, Fleur, but is there any resemblance between this writing and that of your father?"

"Not really, sir."

"I expected to hear you say so. We shall look out for you, then, at six. Allow me to keep the papers. I may look into the matter before then. It is only half-past three. Au revoir, then."

"Au revoir," returned their visitor; and with a bright, kindly glance from one to the other, she replaced her pearl-box in her satchel and hurried away. Standing at the window, Time Turner watched her walking briskly down the street until the pink tail had vanished around the corner.

"Have you ever had occasion to study character in handwriting?” Sheerluck asked suddenly,
“What do you make of this fellow's scribble?"

"It looks normal," Time Turner answered. "A stallion of business, maybe."

Sheerluck shook his head and nickered.

"Look at his long letters," he said. "They hardly rise above the common herd. That d might be an a, and that i an e. Proper stallions, like Mister Dis Lee should be, always differentiate their long letters, however illegibly they may write. There is vacillation in his k's and self-esteem in his capitals. I am going out now. I have some few references to make. Here, you can read my book while you await my return." Sheerluck tossed the abandoned book at Time Turner, which smacked him square in the face.

Time Turner moved to sit at the window with the volume in his hoof. He thought about Fleur Dis Lee. He had a hunch, a bad one.

He didn’t trust her.

The Sign Of The Four, CHAPTER TWO: The Balding Stallion & The Four

“Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it.”
― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes

It was half-past five before Sheerluck Hooves returned.

He was bright, eager, and in excellent spirits (and very much likely intoxicated by such spirits), a mood which in his case alternated with fits of depression.

"There is no great mystery in this matter," he said, taking the cup of tea which Time Turner had poured out for him; "the facts appear to admit of only one explanation."

“Have you solved the case already?” Time Turner asked, eager to get Fleur Dis Lee away from him, Sheerluck, and their family.

"Well, that would be too much to say. I have discovered a suggestive fact, that is all. It is, however, very suggestive. The details are still to be added. I have just found that Major Sharpwits, of Upper Manehattan died a few years ago."

"I may be very obtuse, Sheerluck, but I fail to see what this suggests."

"No? You surprise me. Look at it in this way, then. Captain Dis Lee disappears. The only person in Manehattan whom he could have visited is Major Sharpwits. Major Sharpwits denies having heard that he was in Manehattan. Four years later Sholto dies. Within a week of his death Captain Dis Lee’s daughter receives a valuable present, which is repeated from year to year and now culminates in a letter which describes her as a wronged mare. What wrong can it refer to except this deprivation of her father? And why should the presents begin immediately after Sharpwits’ death unless it is that Sharpwits’ heir, if he has one, desires to make compensation? Have you any alternative theory which will meet the facts?"

"But what an odd way to attract her attention without identifying himself. Why should he write a letter now, rather than six years ago? Again, the letter speaks of giving her justice. What justice can she have? It is too much to suppose that her father is still alive. There is no other injustice in her case that you know of."

"There are difficulties; there are certainly difficulties," said Sherlock Holmes pensively, staring out the window, "but our expedition of tonight will solve them all. Ah, here is the cab, and Miss Diss Lee is inside. Are you all ready? Then we had better go down, for it is a little past the hour."

Time Turner picked up a coat and noticed with irritation that Sheerluck took his bubble pipe and slipped it into his pocket. It was clear that he thought that the night's work might be a rather dull and possibly annoying one.

Fleur Dis Lee was muffled in a dark cloak, and her face was composed but pale. She seemed reluctant, but answered Sheerluck’s probing questions anyways.

"Major Sharpwits was a very particular friend of Papa's," she said. "His letters were full of allusions to the Major. He and Papa were in command of the Guard at the Outer Islands, so they were thrown a great deal together. By the way, a curious paper was found in Papa's desk which nopony could understand. I don't suppose that it is of the slightest importance, but I thought you might care to see it, so I brought it with me. It is here."

Sheerluck unfolded the paper carefully and smoothed it out upon the seat of the cab. He then very methodically examined it all over with his double lens.

"It is paper of native Islander manufacture," he remarked, pointing out various key features of the paper, "It has at some time been pinned to a board. The diagram upon it appears to be a map os a large building. At one point is a small cross done in red ink, and above it is '3.37 from left,' in faded writing. In the left corner is a curious hieroglyph like four crosses in a line with their arms touching. Beside it is written, in very rough and coarse characters, 'The sign of the four: Short Stop, Swallowsong, Khan, Crimmeny.' No, I confess that I do not see how this bears upon the matter. Yet it is evidently a document of importance. It has been kept carefully in a pocketbook, for the one side is as clean as the other."

"It was in his pocketbook that we found it."

"Preserve it carefully, then, Miss Dis Lee, for it may prove to be of use to us. I begin to suspect that this matter may turn out to be much deeper and more subtle than I at first supposed. I must reconsider my ideas."

He leaned back in the cab, and Time Turner could see by his drawn brow and his vacant eyes that he was thinking intently. Time Turner observed Fleur out of the corner of his eye. He still did not trust her as far as he could toss a boulder, but Sheerluck obviously wanted to solve this mystery, so Time Turner would have to tolerate her company for sometime longer.

It was an autumn evening and not yet seven o'clock, but the day had been a dreary one and a dense fog lay low upon the great city of Canterlot as they approached. Clouds drooped sadly over the muddy streets. The usually brilliant street-lamps were nothing but misty splotches of diffused light which gave a feeble glimmer to the slimy pavement. The yellow glare from the shop windows streamed out into the steamy air and threw a murky radiance across the thoroughfare. Sheerluck Hooves was altogether indifferent from the filth that could be seen outside. He was levitating his open notebook before him, and from time to time he jotted down figures and ideas using the scattered light from the street-lamps.

At the Theatre the crowds of ponies were already thick at the entrance. In front a continuous stream of carriages and cabs were rattling up, discharging their cargoes of pompous members of the Canterlotian high society. They had hardly reached the third pillar, which was their destination, before a small, dark, brisk stallion in the dress of a cabbie swooped into their cab.

"Are you those who come with Miss Dis Lee?" he hissed at Sheerluck and Time Turner. Time Turner blubbered in fear while Sheerluck looked up from his notebook with bored eyes, grunted in disinterest, and returned to writing.

"I am Fleur Dis Lee, and these two gentlecolts are my friends," Fleur answered. He bent a pair of penetrating eyes upon the three.

"You will excuse me, Miss," he whispered with shady manner, "but I am to ask you to give me your word that neither of your... companions is a member of the Royal Guard."

"I give you my word on that," she nodded. It was technically true.

He gave a shrill whistle, on which another stallion disguised as a bum pulled a carriage over. The stallion who had accosted them leapt over to the carriage, while the other three followed eagerly. They had hardly done so before the Earth pony stallion pulling the carriage thundered off, and they shot away from the Theatre at a rapid pace through the foggy cobblestone streets. The situation was a peculiar one. They were driving to an unknown place, on an unknown errand. Their invitation had been either a complete hoax or else they had good reason to think that important information would come from this detour. Miss Dis Lee’s demeanour was as resolute and collected as ever. Time Turner was silently losing his mind. And Sheerluck, of course, went immediately back to taking down notes.

They had reached a questionable and forbidding street, housing the lower and working classes of Canterlot. Most of the houses were inhabited, but they one they had stopped at was dark, unlike its neighbours. On our knocking, however, the door was instantly thrown open by an odd-looking unicorn servant, clad in a yellow turban. His cutie mark was that of a medical kit, like what one would see a nurse carry.

"The Great One awaits you," he said solemnly, and as he spoke, there came a high, piping voice from some inner room.

"Show them in to me, First Aid," it said. "Show them straight in to me."

They followed First Aid down an ill-lit and terribly furnished passage, until he came to a door upon the right, which he threw open with his magic. A blaze of yellow light streamed out upon us, and in the centre of the glare there stood a small Earth Pony stallion with a very high head, a bristle of red hair all round the fringe of it, and a balding scalp which shot out from among it. He writhed his his hooves together as he took a seat, and his features were in a perpetual jerk; now smiling, now scowling, but never for an instant in repose. In spite of his obtrusive baldness he gave the impression of youth.

"Your servant, Miss Dis Lee," he kept saying in a thin, high voice. "Your servant, gentlecolts. Pray step into my little sanctuary. A small place, Miss, but furnished to my own liking. An oasis of art in the pit of South Canterlot."

They were all astonished by the appearance of the apartment where he invited them. In the horrible house, it looked completely out of place. The richest of curtains and tapestries draped the walls, looped back here and there to expose some richly mounted painting or vase. The carpet was of amber and black, so soft and so thick that the hoof sank into it. A lamp in the fashion of a silver dove was hung from an almost invisible golden wire in the centre of the room. As it burned it filled the air with a subtle and aromatic odour.

"Mr. Short Stop," squeaked the little stallion, still jerking and smiling, "That is my name. I am one of The Four, perhaps you have heard of us? I doubt it . You are Miss Dis Lee, of course. Daughter of Sir Dis Lee. And these gentlecolts --"

"This is Mr. Sheerluck Hooves, and this Dr. Time Turner."

Short Stop squinted at Time Turner, studying him.

“Peculiar. Peculiar.”

“What is peculiar?” demanded Sheerluck, who was looking from Time Turner to Short Stop.

“Time Turner is the same name as a certain somepony who was known for foiling the schemes of the predecessor of The Four. I am sure you have heard rumors of the Illumarenati?”

Sheerluck and Fleur Dis Lee nodded. It was Equestrian history. Everypony knows what the Illumarenati had been. Time Turner shuddered at the name.

“I-Is that so?” Time Turner stammered. He had come here to discover the fate of Fleur Dis Lee’s father, not to be reunited with his old enemy. Short Stop stood up once more and began to circle Time Turner. Short Stop’s assistant, First Aid, did so as well. Sheerluck was obviously confused for the first time in his life. That is, until a look dawned on his face. Time Turner used to time travel. Of course he would make enemies from all over history.

“Excuse me,” Sheerluck interrupted, “but we are here to discuss the father of Miss Dis Lee here. Can we please get back to business?” Short Stop whirled around. Although the puny pony was small, his glare was intimidating. Short Stop bore his bright blue eyes into Sheerluck’s disinterested brown ones.

"I can give you every information," Short Stop muttered to Sheerluck; "and, what is more, I can give you justice afterwards; and I will, too, whatever Brother Breach may say. I am so glad to have your friends here as witnesses to what I am about to do and say. The three of us can show a bold front to Brother Breach. But let us have no outsiders; no Royal Guard. We can settle everything satisfactorily among ourselves without any interference. Nothing would annoy Brother Breach more than any publicity."

He sat down upon a low chair and blinked at them inquiringly with his watery blue eyes.

"For my part," said Sheerluck finally, "whatever you may choose to say will go no further." Time Turner nodded to show his agreement.

"That is well! That is well" praised Short Stop, "May I offer you a glass of berrywine, Miss Dis Lee? Or of red? I keep no other wines. Shall I open a flask? No? Well, then, I trust that you have no objection to me drinking myself. Helps calm my nerves.”

He reached out a hoof and poured some blood-red liquid from a bottle on the side table into a shot glass not too far from it. Sipping at his shot, Short Stop pondered what to say next.

“As you may already have gathered, the Illumarenati broke off about a century ago, destroyed by a mystery stallion with a name like your friend here. But. It did not die. Four of the original members remained. Quick Stop, Murr Dis Lee, Brother Hollywreath, and Madame Fortun de Zodia. From those four original members came the new society, known simply as The Four.”

He reached out a hoof and gestured a symbol in the air. Four plus signs, one beside another.

++++

“The Four would be more restrictive. More secretive. More hidden. Each of The Four would lead their own group of followers. And each group would assist one another. It was much more stable and more powerful than the Illumarenati could have ever been. My grandfather, Quick Stop, passed his position on to his son, Hold Stop. I inherited my position from my father. I run what is known as the Short Mafia.”

Sheerluck’s eyes bugged and he appeared to flare up in anger before Short Stop waved away his retort.

“Now, now. The Short Mafia has a bad name thanks to the Brotherhood. Let me finish my tale first.” He coughed, took another sip of wine, and continued.

“Murr Dis Lee did not have any foals until late. He passed it on immediately to his eldest son, Sir Dis Lee. Your father, Fleur. And Brother Hollywreath, a monk, passed on his position not to his son, for he had none, but to his closest companion. Brother Breach. However, there is speculation that the current leader of the Brotherhood murdered Hollywreath. But that was never investigated by any of The Four. It was none of our business. Madame Fortun de Zodia, meanwhile, is still the only original member of The Four remaining with us.

“Now. Some time ago, maybe a decade? I cannot recall. Your father, Fleur, angered Brother Breach. The Short Mafia tried to help the Dizzly Troop (your fathers group, of course). But by then, Dis Lee had vanished. I have reason to believe he was kidnapped by-”

Short Stop never got to finish. A blast of green light flashed through the window, striking Short Stop directly in the back. He let out a howl of pain as he disintegrated into nothing but ash. Sheerluck, Time Turner, and First Aid gave shouts of horror as Fleur screamed and promptly fainted. From outside, they heard cackling, and a Changeling Drone was seen flying away.

Short Stop had just been assassinated.

The Sign Of The Four, CHAPTER THREE: ++++

“To a great mind, nothing is little.”
― Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

It was nearly eleven o'clock that night when they finally got back to the investigation.

Time Turner could still see Short Stop being disintegrated before them, the look of sheer terror and pain on his face as he turned to ash. Luna’s night sky was a beautiful one, almost like karma was trying to make up to Time Turner for the horror he had seen. First Aid no longer felt safe in Short Stop’s home. So Sheerluck invited them along as they sought out the second member of The Four. Madame Fortun de Zodia.

It had taken a lot of struggling to get First Aid to remember her location. She was nomadic, he said. A gypsy and a fortune-teller. But he believed that Short Stop had last communicated with her at Cherry Jubilee’s Ranch in Appleloosa. So they had gone on a carriage ride lasting several hours from South Canterlot all the way to the far-off Earth pony settlement.

Cherry Jubilee’s Ranch was dark, everypony who usually worked there having long gone to bed. First Aid led the three (Sheerluck, Time Turner, and Fleur Dis Lee) up to the lone cottage at the top of the hill where grass grew in patches. They finally reached the cottage, which belong obviously to Cherry Jubilee herself. The oaken door thudded with a deep bass as First Aid knocked a hoof over it. From inside, they heard groaning and creaking as somepony woke from their slumber and trotted over to the door.

"Who’s there?" cried a sleepy but still musical voice from within.

"It is First Aid, associate of Short Stop. Me and my friends are here to inquire on the whereabouts of Madame Fortun de Zodia."

There was a grunting sound and a clanking of keys. The door swung back, and a beautiful Earth pony mare with a high-tied red mane and a beauty mark on her cheek stood in the opening, with the yellow light of a lantern shining upon her face and twinkling eyes.

“First Aid? Why, I haven’t seen ya in these here parts in months! How’s ol’ Short Stop? Where is he?” Cherry looked at the somber face of each pony, hoping to see the puny stallion. Her smile fell as she saw he wasn’t there.

“Short Stop… Short Stop is dead,” First Aid muttered, hanging his turbaned head, “killed by an assassin.” Cherry lifted a hoof to her mouth, which had dropped open in shock. She quickly shook her head and beckoned them inside.

“Now get in, y’all. I’ll see if Fortun’ll wake up for ya.”

They stood around by the closed door in awkward silence as Cherry Jubilee sauntered away to find the mythical Fortun de Zodia that First Aid had told them so much about. When the pale yellow Earth pony mare returned, she was followed by a shrouded unicorn mare. The unicorn threw off her hood, revealing that she was not only a mere unicorn.

She was a zebra-unicorn hybrid. Her white coat was peculiar, there were patches of black striped coat. Her mane was that of a zebra, it ended at her horn, which was a long pointed white one. Her eyes were deep set and a piercing yellow. From what First Aid and Short Stop had said, she should have been over a century old.

But she looked no younger than Fleur Dis Lee.

It was completely unexpected, but First Aid bowed to her and the other three followed suit. Fortun tsked and yanked First Aid up by his ear.

“YEEEEEOW!”

“Sit up, you stupid colt.
Short Stop’s death had been a jolt.”

“I know, Madame but-”

“Do not tell me tales I know.
We now have a position to bestow.”

Sheerluck, Fleur, and the Doctor were silent as they listened to the dialogue. But the Doctor felt that he already knew where Fortun was going with this. Short Stop was dead. Who would control the Mafia now?

“P-Position?” First Aid stuttered, straightening his crooked turban.

“You were Short Stop’s only friend,
and now the Mafia you must tend.”

“M-Me?! But I’m just a servant! A butler!”

But Fortun had already turned away from the blibbering stallion.

“You seek the last of The Four.
But beware of the Brother’s lore.”

“Brother?” Time Turner exclaimed, puzzled, “You mean Brother Breach? Did he have something to do with Short Stop’s death, Madame?”

“Though I do my duties well,
the future is something I cannot tell.”

“Can you give us a hint? A clue?” Sheerluck snapped impatiently. Madame Zodia looked to him, raising her eyebrow.

“Find the Changeling killer.
He will be the one quite peculiar.”

“Hey that didn’t rhyme!” Fleur Dis Lee pointed out. Zodia winked at her.

“Your father shall soon be found.
But now to bed, I am bound.”

And with that, Zodia trotted off, back to her room. They heard a door close and Cherry Jubilee showed them out. They were confused as they went back to their carriage, the stallion cabbie looking immensely bored and sleepy. Well, Fleur and Time Turner were confused. Sheerluck was just grouchy.

"I cannot understand it," First Aid whimpered as they clambered back into the carriage, "There must be some mistake. I am not related to Short Stop in any way. I shouldn’t be proclaimed leader of the Mafia. I can’t even imagine being one of The Four! I do not know what to make of it."

"Does she always speak so cryptically?" asked Sheerluck.

"Yes; she not only has the rhyming urge inherited from her zebra side, but her mother was a successful diviner. She has the ability to see into the future, but refuses to help anypony in any way regarding it. She enjoys watching others writhe in struggle."

"So what group does she lead?," asked the Doctor, not wanting to go unheard, "She seemed quite alone up in Cherry’s cottage."

"She leads these things called ‘Mysteries.’ Kind of like cults. She has Mysteries in Zebrica, Fillydelphia, some even think she has them in Griffonstone. She may seem like nothing much, but she controls far more than anypony else in The Four. Brother Breach’s Brotherhood comes at a close second, but Zodia doesn’t exploit her power like Breach does."

Just as the carriage was about to kick off, they all heard a blood-curdling scream come from the cottage. Cherry Jubilee.

First Aid was the first one to leap out from the carriage as it screeched back to a halt. Sheerluck and the others followed suit, close behind. First Aid didn’t stop to open the door, he simply blasted it open with an impressive offensive spell. When they returned inside, they found Cherry sobbing uncontrollably. Time Turner felt his stomach flop over with a feeling of impending doom. Cherry could only point a hoof to the open door down the hall, the one that Fortun had disappeared behind moments before.

They all went in. Time Turner gasped and Fleur let out a shriek. The remains of Madame Fortun de Zodia were torn open, her insides strewn about on the bed and into the floor. Blood was splattered across the walls and in streaks leading out the window. Oddly, however, was her face, with eyes closed and mouth upturned in a smile, despite whatever excruciating pain Time Turner knew she must have been in.

On her night stand was a single sheet of paper speckled with Fortun de Zodia’s blood. On it was a familiar looking symbol.

++++

''You see," Sheerluck said with a significant raising of the eyebrows. He levitated the page before the Doctor and Fleur, allowing them to see it. In the light of the single lantern in the room, Time Turner studied the symbol with horror, "The sign of the four."

"In Celestia’s name, what does it all mean?" Time Turner breathed.

"It means this was another assassination, and judging by the look on Madame’s face, it was an expected one. This murder, however, was not to prevent us from finding information, but to scare us," he answered, stooping over the dead mare, not so much as wincing at the sight. Fleur let out a gag and left to room to join the crying Cherry Jubilee.

First Aid was staring at the dead mare in shock. His already pale face even paler.

“She… She was over a century old. She had been one of The Four since before The Four overtook the Illumarenati. And… And Breach just killed her. Like she was nothing.”

“You are certain that Breach did this?” Sheerluck asked First Aid, still studying the crime scene.

“Yes. It must have been that Changeling assassin!”

Sheerluck hummed in concentration.

“You know who else utilizes Changelings, my dear Doctor?” Sheerluck asked Time Turner. Time Turner nodded. He did know.

“Mortuary.”

“Indeed.”

“You think Mortuary could be working with Brother Breach?” Time Turner pursued. Sheerluck nodded. “Why?”

“Because Mortuary, if I know him well, which I do, will be seeking the easiest way to gain power here in Equestria. And the easiest way is to take over The Four. Which means that killing the Leader of the Short Mafia, killing the Priestess of the Zodiac Mysteries. Coltnapping the Head of the Dizzly Gang. His next target is Brother Breach, but Breach doesn’t know that. He must think that Mortuary is an ally. And,” Sheerluck added, “Mortuary probably convinced Breach to start killing off the leaders in the first place, which means that Breach would not be necessarily in the wrong here.”

“So this Mortuary of which you speak is using Breach in order to frame him?” First Aid snarled. “Who is this Mortuary anyways? A friend of yours?”

“Quite the contrary,” Sheerluck muttered, “but we need to find Breach. Fast.”

“We’ll be headed back to Canterlot, then. Breach lives in the higher society portion of the capital.”

Sheerluck pondered this for a moment before leaping up in excitement. Smiling and dancing about despite the presence of the messy corpse.

“We need to find the Changeling first. And I think I know where to find him.”

The Sign Of The Four, CHAPTER FOUR: The Whinnyapolis Accent

“Is that true? Are you really him?”
“I am afraid I still hold that distinction.”
“You are Sherlock Holmes? No, I don’t believe it.”
“That is quite all right. I scarcely believe it myself.”
― Mitch Cullin, A Slight Trick of the Mind

Fleur Dis Lee had the cabbie drop them off at Time Turner’s Ponyville house before going along on her own back to her small mansion in Canterlot.

First Aid had hitchhiked through back to the now-abandoned shack that had formerly belonged to Short Stop. TIme Turner and the Doctor simply returned the Time Turner’s home.

When they had finally gotten home early in the morning, Dinky squealed in delight and hugged her second cousin and her father before joining her mother at the breakfast table. Sheerluck and TIme Turner completely forgot the events of the previous night and indulged themselves on french toast and fresh cinnamon muffins baked by Derpy herself.

After breakfast, however, Time Turner turned faint and nearly burst into tears. He had witnessed the deaths of two ponies of such high importance to the case and to the ponies they employ… It was difficult to cope with. And Short Stop had begun to even seem friendly before he was murdered directly in front of Time Turner.

They decided to go to bed and sleep throughout the morning, and get back to the case as soon as they reawoke.

It was nearly two o'clock when finally woke again. Sheerluck and Time Turner had replaced their garments, for the weather outside was chilling as the time for winter grew near. Immediately, the Doctor recounted the gruesome event of that night.

And the more he thought of what had happened, the wilder and darker it grew. He then decided that although Fleur Dis Lee was not the most trustworthy of ponies, she was not a threat to them in any way. So that problem was thankfully resolved. Then there was the original problem… That at least was clear now. To a degree. The sending of the pearls, the advertisement, the letter, the symbol, The Four. They had only led us, however, to a deeper and far more tragic mystery. Short Stop’s death, the tying of Mortuary’s activities with that of, the remarkable methods of assassination, the words upon the paper, here was indeed a labyrinth.

“So I was thinking, Doctor.” Sheerluck said over their tea. Time Turner looked up from reading Short Stop’s obituary (the newsponies were awfully fast) to regard his friend and relative.

“About?”

“Mortuary hires Changelings. Or at least we hypothesize so.”

“Yes.”

“So why not hire somepony… Or something as well?”

“Haven’t… we been hired, though, Sheerluck?”

“Well… Yes. But we need non-pony expertise here.”

“Who do we hire then? A dragon? I doubt Spike would want to help you after the little episode the two of you had at Twilight’s castle.”

“No. I was thinking more of a Diamond Dog.”

Time Turner spat out his tea, spraying it across the table. He looked to Sheerluck as though he had suggested they shove cacti up their rectums.

“A Diamond Dog? Why in Equestria would you want to hire one of those things?”

“Well one, they are cheap. Two, they have an excellent sense of smell. Three, they will be able to better identify the pearls that Fleur had been sent. You see? It’s perfectly logical to hire a Diamond Dog to help us.” Sheerluck said, waving a dismissive hoof at Time Turner. “I have a Diamond Dog in mind already anyways. His name is Red - he used to hunt Tatzelwurms with your friend Porter.”

“Porter hunted Tatzelwurms?”

“Yes,” answered Sheerluck impatiently, “but that is beside the point. Red is an excellent tracker who will be able to track the scent of the assassin who has killed two of The Four. And then we either apprehend the assassin or follow him to his employer. Namely, Professor Mortuary.”

“Brilliant!” cried Time Turner.

“Elementary,” corrected Sheerluck Hooves. But he did have a smug smirk across his face as he met Time Turner’s eyes.

“So have we or have we not determined Short Stop’s place in all this? And why he had to die?”

"A simplicity in itself. Short Stop is easily one of the more powerful members of The Four, besides Zodia. And Short Stop also have a sort of alliance with the ze-pony. You remember that Short Stop also had a great distrust for this ‘Brother Breach’. He was the second cross in the sign of the four. And you surely recall that the Mafia leader sat upon a small fortune? The answer is obvious. Brother Breach was encouraged to have Short Stop assassinated by none other than the mad Professor. Without Short Stop, Mortuary’s rise to power will be that much easier."

"So we definitely know that Mortuary is behind this?," asked Time Turner.

"Well… It’s a theory. But a very sound theory. Do you recall Short Stop’s letter and his short and stopped speech at his residence?"

"The one where he talked on and on about revenge?"

"Indeed. Revenge is a concept that Mortuary cherishes. It is a concept that Mortuary tends to use in order to gain influence over others, by offering vengeance. Now, you recall that the assassin was a Changeling? And who do we know has direct control over the Changelings?”

“Mortuary.”

“Exactly! My dear Doctor, I have a hypothesis to explain Mortuary’s behavior.”

“And that is?”

“He obviously fancies himself taking over The Four. But of course, ruling one side of The Four would not be enough, he is a greedy stallion. He has to have all Four. Therefore we may say with confidence that the true reason why he is helping Brother Breach clear house is for he himself to then kill Breach and Sir Dis Lee and take control of the Gang, the Mafia, the Cult, AND the Brotherhood. Does the reasoning strike you as being faulty?"

"No."

"Well, now, let us put ourselves in the place of Short Stop. Let us look at it from his point of view. He is happily running the Mafie, a sort of half-good and half-evil corporation of Canterlot. Suddenly, Brother Breach, his well-known rival suddenly has a new advisor. Mortuary is a sneaky looking one, and Short Stop implores Madame Fortun de Zodia to take action against him. However, just as Short Stop was going to Zodia, Breach coltnaps Dis Lee in an attempt to scare off the Mafia leader. But Short Stop simply contacts Dis Lee’s daughter. This makes it seem to them that the Dizzly Gang will simply go under new leadership.”

“But then why did Short Stop have to die? Why not Fleur?”

“Because Short Stop could teach her how to control the Gang. Without Short Stop, the Gang would fall apart. But the one oversight that Brother Breach made was that Short Stop was not training her in leadership, but was informing her on her father’s abduction and getting us to find a way to save him.”

“Can we save him?” Time Turner asked, his head swirling with all this information.

“I’m not sure. Well, I’m 80% sure that he is still alive. So it just depends on our ability. Now, let’s go get that Diamond Dog.”

It was the second time they had visited Appleloosa within the week.

Fleur Dis Lee had (much to Time Turner’s relief) elected to sit out this adventure. She claimed to have suffered mentally and spiritually during their terrible activities the night before.

So together, Time Turner and Sheerluck sought out the Diamond Dog alone. The markets of Appleloosa were as busy as ever, teeming with ponies and creatures from all walks of life attempting to sell their wares and find products that they could barter or bargain for. They waited in long lines and suffered against the sheer stupidity and stubbornness of many ponies. Finally, they reached the empty Tatzelwurm stand.

"What now?" Time Turner asked, "It looks like nopony’s home. "

"Never fear, my dear Doctor," reassured Sheerluck, leading him back in to wait in the kiosk, "They are quite possibly just out hunting. Tatzelwurm season is almost over, if I recall correctly."

"So do we simply wait here for Red to return?"

"Yes. And, unfortunately, we may be waiting for some time. The Dog is well known for his ability to track and capture, but he is not known for his punctuality."

There was no difficulty about waiting. Although Time Turner did admit to himself that the climate of Appleloosa was a tad bit hotter and drier than what he preferred.

"So what is Red is a no-show, Sheerluck?” Time Turner asked, wiping some more sweat from his brow. He really shouldn't have worn a tie today.

"I had thought of that. But you notice that ponies keep on poking their heads in looking for him, that would imply he is due to return. He is simply running very, very late." It was noon when Red finally arrived.

“Hallo, uny-corn. Du are ze pony zat Porter has tolds me about?” Red raised a filthy paw for Sheerluck to shake, which he did without batting an eye. In Red’s other arm was a large slab of bloody Tatzel steak which smelled to Time Turner like it had been sitting outside for quite some time. Which, TIme Turner realized, it probably had. With the Dog came a silent and somber Griffon female with beautiful blue-tinted golden plumage.

“Yes. I am Sheerluck Hooves and this is my associate, Doctor Time Turner.”

Red, the tall, slender, and rather weaselly-looking Diamond Dog bore his yellow eyes into the Doctor’s blue ones. After many awkward moments, the Dog began to discuss prices for his services with Sheerluck. Time Turner decided to speak with the griffon.

"Hello, I’m the Doctor. May I know your name?"

"Uhhh… m’name’s… Gael?"

"Is that a question to my question?" asked Time Turner with a grin as he mimicked what Sheerluck had asked him such a long time ago.

"Um. No. Gael. It’s my name. And what’s your real name, eh?" asked the Griffon in a strangely Whinnyapolis-esque accent. Time Turner blinked in surprise and then caught himself from making the moment awkward; without missing a beat.

“My name is Time Turner. Member of the Hooves family, if that helps you any. So tell me, this Tatzelwurm business. How do you like it?”

“Uhhhh… I dunno whatcha talkin’ aboot.”

“Aboot?”

“I mean, ab-out.”

“Huh. Are you from Whinnyapolis?”

Red answered for her, giving Gael a raised eyebrow. “No. She’s from Griffonstone. She doesn’y have an accent.” Now Sheerluck was raising his eyebrow as well. Time Turner saw a small trickle of sweat run down the griffon’s face as she grinned sheepishly.

“But of course!” Sheerluck suddenly shouted, causing everypony, doggie, and griff in the Tatzelwurm tent to jump in fear. “That isn’t Gael. TIme Turner! Red!”

“Yes, Sheerluck?”

“Aye, Hooves?”

“Tie her up. We’ve found our Changeling assassin.”

A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER ONE: Mister Sheerluck Hooves

“My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people do not know.”
― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

Breakfast in the Hooves household was generally a very peaceful and and uneventful fare.

Little Dinky Hooves would eat a bowl of cereal prepared by her mother, Derpy Hooves. Doctor Time Turner, Derpy’s loving husband of but a few months, would be struggling to choose between a lime green and a forest green tie. Derpy would go over, kiss her husband, and then assure him that he would look dapper either way. Then the Doctor Hooves would go along to his laboratory and workshop while Derpy took her adopted daughter to school.

Today’s breakfast, however, was not peaceful nor uneventful in any way, shape, or form.

Dinky and her mother were in a panicked frenzy, struggling to cleanse the small abode or its ravenous dust and caked dirt. Time Turner would not be going off to work at all. Instead, he would still be worrying about which tie to wear and about how he should address a fellow Bridlish immigrant. He has been best friends to the Cockney, Carnegie Porter, for close to a year now, but this wasn’t some Cockney binge-drinker he could pal around with. This was an intellect and a sophisticated member of the Bridlish high society.

Derpy’s Bridlish cousin was coming to visit. To stay with them for quite some time. All that Time Turner knew about Mister Sheerluck Hooves was that the other stallion was an investigator for Trotland Yard and a master of many sciences that Time Turner too excelled in.

Dinky was being held aloft by Derpy as they dusted the small chandelier in the sitting room and Time Turner was wearing about seven ties of various shades of green when there was the sound of a hoof knocking on the front door. The Hooves family paused, staring in silent horror as whoever was on the other side of the door knocked once more.

He was here.

Time Turner yanked off his many ties, leaving a plain green one on. Derpy dropped her daughter in a panic, and Dinky’s father caught her and placed her at his side. Derpy swooped down and stood beside her husband and daughter. They each stood bolt upright and smiled broadly.

“Come in!” Derpy called. The doorknob turned and the door itself creaked open.

A tall, thin stallion wearing an Inverness cape and a deerstalker cap strode into the house. He had a coat similar in color to Derpy’s, which helped identify him as her cousin. But that’s where the similarities between them stopped. The stallion had a short-cut mane and tail of brown. The stallion’s eyes were not golden like Derpy’s, but they were an amber color. Another interesting thing that Time Turner noticed was that Sheerluck was not a pegasus, but a unicorn with a short, rounded horn.

Upon Sheerluck’s flank, Time Turner saw, was a brown half-bent billiard pipe with a brown magnifying glass crossing it.

“Good day and how are you, my dear cousin?” He mumbled in a thoughtful voice. Time Turner felt his eyebrow rise in a characteristically Porter-like fashion.

“Oh, Sheerluck! I’m doing fine, you know that. But I should introduce you to the family!” Derpy squeed, almost pushing Dinky and Time Turner towards Sheerluck. The two smiled weakly at the grey stallion, whose face had not changed even slightly since entering the household. Sheerluck looked over the two. Almost like he was studying them.

“An inventor. Or maybe just a tinkerer. No, inventor would make more sense. No actual degree in engineering, however. But not a mere amatuer. And she is a schoolfilly. Adopted. Names, please.”

Sheerluck’s sudden announcement shocked Time Turner to the core. They had never even met before. How did the stallion already know his occupation.

“How in Equestria did you know that?” Time Turner breathed.

“Never mind,” Sheerluck replied, clearly disinterested based on the way he trotted about, studying the walls of the home, “the question now is about when and where your mealtimes are and whether you are prepared for me to make board with you.”

“Um…”

“Dinky, watch over Sheerluck for us.” Derpy ordered her daughter.

Mrs. Hooves dragged her husband away from the odd stallion and their foal. As Time Turner glanced over his shoulder at Sheerluck and Dinky before rounding the corner, he saw the stallion sit on his haunches, studying the mounted prototype for the TROTIS. The Doctor wondered if Sheerluck would be able to tell what it was.

When the couple had managed to get quite some distance away from Derpy’s cousin, Derpy began to explain her cousin’s odd behavior.

“Listen, Doc, I should’ve told you that Sheerluck isn’t quite right in the head…”

“Honey, it’s okay. He’s only here for what? A week?”

“Three months.”

Time Turner felt his jaw drop. Derpy scrunched her nose in the adorable fashion that the Doctor had grown to love and she smiled sheepishly. Time Turner closed his mouth, only for it to open again. It was almost as if he was trying to talk, but couldn’t quite make out the words.

“I’m sorry, Timey. I should have warned you.”

“Well… I mean, he doesn’t seem that bad, to be perfectly honest.”

Derpy peeked around the corner of the door frame, into the sitting room. Time Turner leaned over as well. Sheerluck Hooves sat on his haunches in a chair. The stallion had taken of his Inverness cape and now only wore a white collar similar to the one that Time Turner wore, although instead of a necktie, he wore a simple black cravat. Dinky was sitting across from him. She was glancing from the mantle to her second cousin warily.

“Well… then again… he is a bit of a kook.”

“Doctor!”

“Just look at him! He’s like a bloody robot. His face hasn’t even changed since he trotted into here. It’s unnatural.”

“Well, you know what else is unnatural? Time travelling. But nopony’s judging you for it. Just… just try to be nice to him. It might be hard, be cause Sheerluck can be a bit of a jerk sometimes…”

“Sometimes?”

“... All the time.”

They hushed up again to watch Sheerluck Hooves in silence. The stallion was still perfectly still, staring off into space with a peculiar look on his face. Time Turner gasped as Sheerluck reached into his cape that was hanging off his chair and pulled out a brown wooden pipe, quite like the one on his cutie mark.

“No! Don’t let him smoke in here!” Time Turner hissed. But just as he and Derpy began to scramble to stop the stallion from lighting his pipe, Sheerluck blew into it. And instead of filthy black smoke pouring from the pipe, a stream of bubbles poured from the hole. Sheerluck’s face was still one of steely coldness. But the flood of bubbles being emitted from his pipe was so endlessly silly that Time Turner found he could no longer take him seriously.

Sheerluck noticed the two staring, and the grey stallion beckoned to them. They approached Sheerluck reluctantly.

“So a few questions to my hosts.”

“Yes, Sheerluck?” Time Turner asked politely as a billow of bubbles caressed his face.

“You don’t mind the presence of bubbles, do you?”

“No, no, not at all.” Time Turner replied, trying his best to keep a straight face as Sheerluck blew more bubbles in his direction.

“Excellent. I generally keep chemicals about, and I often perform various experiments. But as an inventor, that wouldn’t bother you much I would hope.”

“Why, I could set you up in my laboratory across the street down that way,” Time Turner waved a hoof in the general direction of his lab. Sheerluck nodded curtly and presumed his questioning.

“Let me see -- what are my other shortcomings…? I do get down in the dumps at times, and I won’t open my mouth for days on end. You mustn't think of me as sulky when I do that. Just leave me be, and I'll be fine eventually. What should I know about your family? It's good for us to know the worst of one another before we begin to live together for such a time."

“Well… Dinky gets to school early enough in the morning. We always go out together to pick her up when school lets out. We don’t tend to get into arguments, the house is usually quiet most of the time. Derpy works every day at the post office, and I go to the lab daily. I do tend to get annoyed by a few things, but those are but pet peeves. Everypony had pet peeves.”

“Would playing the violin happen to be one of those pet peeves of yours?”

“That depends on the player. A good one is delightful. A terrible one is… well… terrible.”

“That’s all good.” Sheerluck assured the Doctor, before kicking into another trot about the room. After a few awkward moments of silence, Sheerluck spoke once again to Time Turner, looking into the Doctor’s eyes with a hushed intensity.

“Well, I am off. I have a few matters to attend to here in Ponyville. Thank you once again for accepting me into your home.”

Before Time Turner or Derpy could reply, Sheerluck strode out of the room and to the front door. The unicorn levitated his cape back to him and stuffed the bubble pipe into his pocket. Then, with that, the stallion exited the premises. Off to do whatever errands eccentric Bridlish private investigators had in small Equestrian towns. Immediately, Time Turner rounded on his wife. He bore a shocked expression on his face.

“How in Tartarus did he know I was an inventor? Did you tell him that?”

Derpy shook her head.
“Nope.”

“Then how did he know that?!”

Now she shrugged. Time Turner felt like freaking out. He wasn’t used to not knowing things. He preferred having all the information he needed when he was presented with a problem. This was a problem indeed, and he had absolutely no idea how to make Sheerluck seem less like an omniscient genius.

“It’s just something he does. It’s his special talent. Lots of ponies wish they knew how he can do what he does.”

“Well then…” Time Turner was now deep in thought. Maybe he could be the one to figure out Sheerluck’s secrets.

“Mommy! Mister Daddy Doctor Time Turner! It’s almost time for school!” Dinky called from the other room. Derpy and the Doctor sprang into action. They’d have other responsibilities before they could learn more about their peculiar house-guest.