Once You Have Eliminated the Impossible, Whatever Remains, However Improbable, Must Be the Truth
For Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss
(Seriously though, this is what a year without Sherlock does to people.)
Note: If you don't watch Sherlock, you may want to skip the first bit. If you do, here are some Reichenfeels.
John Watson wasn't feeling well, to say the least.
It had been a month since the incident at St Barts, and he still found it hard to stay asleep at night. Although he wasn't back in the old flat, he swore he felt his presence lurking all around him. The aroma of cold tea lingered in the unfamiliar new apartment, wafting its way through the white-washed walls and the dented rafters. He didn't find it awfully comfortable, but cold and unfamiliar was comparably better to painstaking and emotionally crippling.
John had still maintained his interest in crime, even if his blog still remained untouched ever since the incident. But still, he'd scout the newspapers for the occasional headlines of a murder, or a mysterious disappearance of some kind. When he did, he found himself glancing in the corner of his eye, almost expecting Sher- him to be crawled up on the long-suffering armchair, eyes out of focus, deep in thought.
However, the crime rate had slowed down considerably since the incident. That was the single thing that was making John feel ill. He'd often internally beg the newspaper to announce a crime of interest: "Serial Killer Takes A Third Life", "Precious Gemstone Missing", "Entire Family Held Hostage." Anything.
Anything to prove that he was real.
If he were here, he would be doing somersaults on the walls by now, John noted with a grim smile.
Molly was very kind to him after the incident, always checking on him when she could, and, while he was a little apprehensive to receive her friendship at first, he found himself trusting her. She could be a little distant on the odd occasion when the subject of him was brought up. It wasn't exactly grieving expression, and while John found it to be somewhat odd, he couldn't exactly blame her. The way he treated her wasn't terribly humane, especially at the Christmas party-
John cringed at the memory and the familiar emotional pain cut through him like a blunt bread knife. His ghost-like pale face, broken and stained with blood, his eyes pale and dead as the concrete he landed on...
John's face fell to his hands, shaking himself out of his demising flashback.
He needed to go to bed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Apple Bloom had found something in the fields, near their treasured cubby house.
That was all the information that the filly had provided to her friendship group that morning before school. From experience from their previous discoveries, Sweetie Belle wasn't sure if she should be interested or frightened. After all, they had once inadvertedly unleashed the God of Chaos into Equestria as a result of one of their expeditions.
But then again, they hadn't really found that. They had merely been lead to it. According to Scootaloo, if Cheerilee hadn't created an assessment on the History of Equestria, Discord would have never been released in the first place. Sweetie Belle often noted that Scootaloo had a gift of reflecting the blame onto any other parties other than herself.
Her older sister had often said that, despite everything, the group's intentions were generally well-meaning, even if the consequences caused more chaos than a week of Discord.
Class was ordinary. Miss Cheerilee was a great teacher and all, but at times, Sweetie Belle found herself staring out the window, gazing at the endless blue sky, the mountainous treetops, the crystal dew on the grass. She also found herself pondering deep philosophical questions like what would happen if everypony turned into a chicken. Scootaloo wouldn't notice any changes. The thought unintentionally raised the corners of her lips, forcing her to think of dying puppies until her mouth was straight enough not to attract any odd looks from her classmates.
But still, throughout class, Sweetie Belle couldn't help but be distracted by very idea that something of interest was found near Crusaders' HQ. Perhaps it was a sign from Dead Pony God that their acquirement of their cutie marks was almost at hand. Maybe it would help find their cutie marks!
With that thought, Sweetie Belle had suddenly become about 90% more anxious to see Apple Bloom's discovery. So anxious, that she realised that she was fidgeting around in her chair like she was sitting on a pineapple. She had also managed to scuff the chair in front of her quite a bit.
Glancing around, Sweetie Belle could see that she had numerous classmates peering at her in the corner of their eyes, as if she were something mildly gross, like an inside-out nostril. Apple Bloom was also silently mouthing a "are-you-alright-there". Sheepishly grinning, she glanced towards the front-
Woah. In what period of time did all that appear on the blackboard?
Sweetie Belle quickly nabbed her pencil and wrote down everything before Miss could ask any related questions.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Scootaloo wasn't expecting anything living, let alone some sort of exotic animal.
Then again, by the state of it, none of them were actually sure if it was even alive.
Maybe Apple Bloom should have told about it Applejack before she led her Crusaders to it. She thought it might be a sign that their acquirement of their cutie marks was almost at hand, but come to think of it, it probably wasn't.
It lay spread-eagle, face down, on the browning grass. Its torso had a woolly texture to it, while its hind legs were definitely made out of cotton. Sweetie Belle was the ultimate expert on clothing materials after all. Or, at least, she certainly looked it, inspecting every fibre with that magnifying glass she conveniently found in a tree.
Its mane was fair, a similar colour to Big Mac's, in fact. But instead of long and flyaway, like one would have when galloping into the sunset on the dry desert plains of Appleloosa, it was comparably short and slightly bristly, like one would have when galloping from an unfortunate shaving accident at the barbers.
But the most intriguing part about this new creature was its hooves, or, more to the point, lack of. It had claws, but instead of the natural sharp dragon shape, they were "kinda soft and pudgy looking." With some examining, and some necessary poking, Apple Bloom could see that the extra appendages were of absolutely no use to him.
The possibility of an infliction of a curse from Dead Pony God was considered, but that would be a question that would come later, when they would interrogate it, using all sorts of ghastly and law-infringing torture instruments that would do terrible things to his love handles.
Just kidding. As if the Cutie Mark Crusaders are going to consider law inforcement as a career.
With accurate processes of scientific deduction and elimination, Scootaloo had come to the conclusion it was a hybrid of a dragon and a hedgehog. The other two nodded, accepting this statement.
The group also agreed that the animal was likely to be sick, and needed to be taken care of. Sure, they could ask Fluttershy to take the burden off their hooves, but it was in their good nature to look after the needy, and this was surely the case. Besides, it could lead to a new cutie mark and/or potential career opportunity: Otherworldly Creature Hybrid Specialists. Apple Bloom's strong ambitions to become the next Pony President were quickly discarded in light of this shining new opportunity.
However, there was a multiple of issues that needed to be cleared out first.
Sitting in a circle surrounding the limp unconscious creature, in a similar fashion to that one time when they attempted to become Cutie Mark Wiccans, Apple Bloom held the position as Cutie Mark Chairman.
"Now girls, we gotta figure out where we gonna keep this thing. We also gotta figure out supplies, food and water, if it can breathe in this atmosphere..."
Scootaloo slammed her fore-hoof forward. "Declined. We gotta NAME it first!"
This imperative statement seemed to open a brand new discussion.
"Ah say we call it Apple Tart."
"Rainbow Dash the 2nd!"
"How 'bout Apple Sweet."
"Rainbow Flash, then!"
"Ah say Apple Sweet!"
"Rainbow Flash!"
"Apple...Sweet!" Apple Bloom growled through gritted teeth.
"Rainbow ... Flash!" Scootaloo's wings had flared up, preparing to take on her new mortal enemy.
It was safe to say that it was time for Sweetie Belle to intervene. The two hot-headed fillies were so inveloped in their argument that they hadn't notice that the hybrid in question was stirring.
"GUYS!" Sweetie Belle exclaimed.
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo sharply stared at the peacekeeper, about to use their vocal cords for a second round when their focus drifted to their new mutant pet. Its movements, though muted, had scared the group into taking a few startled steps back. While they were fairly certain this creature needed help, they had not taken into consideration of how dangerous it might be.
"Maybe we should ask it what its name is."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
John Watson woke up feeling as if he'd been thrown off his bed and out the window.
As his body ascended into consciousness, he could sense that quite a few things weren't right. For one, he was lying spread-eagle outside. The prickly grass ran up legs like a thousand tiny ants. So, you could say, not particularly comfortable. Second of all, though he knew it was evening, the temperature did not freeze him like it normally would on a night out in London with his mates. It was rather pleasant, with a small gentle breeze cooling the evening to an almost perfect temperature.
Also, there were three life-sized My Little Ponies surrounding him, gazing down at him like three anxious, multi-coloured puppies.
Now, this is quite a lot for an average human to process, much less a man going through post-traumatic stress. The mind-blowing abnormality of the situation would not really hit home until he completely regained consciousness.
Blinking a few times and briefly rubbing the corners of his eyes, he was almost certain he should have been more than awake now. But seeing as the pastel-coloured ponies were still right in front of him, it was safe to say that he hadn't achieved that yet. Sitting up, momentarily cringing as his back cracked, he observed his current situation.
As far as he could see, one was yellow, another was white, and the one further away was orange.
He might have looked for more detail, but once the yellow one asked him a question, he was 99% certain that a) there was a cataclysmic dimension shift, where he was transported into a world where his sister Harry's My Little Ponies ruled or b) he ate pizza from that dodgy place across the road, which always seemed to give him the weirdest dreams.
Deduction: The ultimate, yet cliche, dimension shift, or dodgy pizza.
"Are y'all... dangerous?" the yellow one asked, apprehensively.
And they were American. Of course.
"It...depends, how, uh..." He hesitated, momentarily squinting his eyes shut. "How dangerous are you?"
He was answering to a tiny, talking, pastel horse. With a bow in its hair, might he add. God, he was going to sue that pizza place.
Though he was being sarcastic, it was as if this was the answer to life as they know it. They jumped in the air, assumingly for joy, and proceeded to bombard him with even more questions.
"You're from Trottingham?"
"Y'all talk funny! What are you?"
"What do hedgehog hybrids eat?"
"Why did the Scootaloo cross the road?"
"GIRLS!"
A sliver of smoke went careening into the air, making a small noise that startled even John. Silence popped its head around the corner, lingering there, as the attention was drawn to the white one. (Who, as John realised, appeared to have a small horn on its head.)
"What's your name?"
Silence remained there quietly until John's voice ushered it away.
"I'm...I'm John."
"Jawn?" The orange one fluttered a little closer, wings flared up on its back.
Oh. A flying pony. Ha.
This seemed like an applicable name to the tiny trio. Short, strange and to-the-point. The yellow one, who appeared to be the leader, looked to its two friends.
"Well, girls, you heard it. Its name is Jawn, he's a hedgehog hahbrid, and we're gonna 'dopt him!"
At least his own delusions were- wait what?
"Ah'll gallop to the barn and get the leash!" With that, the yellow one galloped off into the evening, leaving him with an anxious knot in his stomach.
"Sorry, what?"
The two other ponies, turned to him with cheerful grins.
"I'm Scootaloo, and she's Sweetie Belle," the orange fluttery one stated, gesturing towards its friend. The white one, who apparently was named Sweetie Belle, (God, he felt silly even thinking that), shyly nodded, as if confirming it.
John pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes. Maybe it would all go away once he opened them.
"Right. Well, whoever is there, I'd really like to know what the hell you put in my tea."
