Sherlock And The Jewelled Bud

A pair of empty tea cups sat on the same cream tray with which they had been brought in. A small section of the room had been cleared by Sherlock of any stacks of books, papers and general oddities, allowing space for a table big enough for both ponies to stand around to be moved over. Though in John's perspective he had only made even more of a mess due to there now being a dangerously high mound of variables in one corner of the room. To make it worse the pile was beside the fireplace.

The guards had questioned the two predictably for a while. They asked for reasons why somepony wanted Sherlock dead, as if they didn't know, but it became quickly apparent to John that Sherlock had a reputation with the force. It didn't take long before they were either literally pushed out by him, or made enough of a mockery of that they were forced to leave. However one good thing came out of the whole event as Sherlock managed to acquire some evidence from the guards on the grocery mare's murder.

John didn't mind one way or another; he was always treated with respect from the 'military'. Generally they acted as no more than guards, but every now and again, as Watson had experienced, they got their hands dirty. Although, they often played on Sherlock's nerves, so in sweet revenge he enjoyed deducing a few private matters belonging to the guard ponies he particularly didn't like.

With the room feeling vacant after the rush of officials the two could finally get down to business. John had opened a window to let some of the thick air out of the room, after all a cramped flat with a dozen ponies was no comfortable matter. It had turned chilly outside and light snow was expected as the Pegasi claimed that they wanted to finally give a taste of true winter to everypony seeing as how no snow had yet fallen this year. They welcomed the cold air though, it was a nice change from their stuffy accommodation, especially after Watson took off his jumper which began to stick to his coat.

Laid on the ebony table Sherlock and Watson stood around was a group of photos of the dead mare and a shopping bag filled with many items.

"Well then John," Sherlock began with a childlike excitement "let's get down to business. First things first; there's been two murders in Ponyville separate from the mare in the alleyway."

Even though he had heard this news recently it still struck him. It was truly a mystery why somepony in Ponyville, the place he had heard to be wonderful and peaceful with a friendly community would kill like that.

A thin stream of steam flew from Watson's nostrils as the cold air seeped into the room. "Both stabbed in the lungs?"

Sherlock eye's didn't meet Watson's when he answered, instead they were away in the planes of his mind. "Yes, Glimmer Jule and Ruby Neigh, both murdered for no apparent reason. Well, until now that is."

Watson was intrigued. "Why?"

"Because John," Sherlock spread the pictures with a swift hoof to reveal three separate ponies, one on each photo, "each of these ponies are missing something and it wasn't until this murder that he revealed, unbeknownst to him, what it is." John took a close look at each picture and waited for a few seconds for him to work it out. John shrugged. "Oh come on John. Here." Sherlock was still wearing his night-sky blue scarf, even throughout the sauna-like conditions with the guards, but now Watson saw the reason for it.

As he took off the scarf he fished out a long, crumpled stretch of paper which had been clearly stuffed into it before anypony saw . "This receipt tells us otherwise." He tried to hand the receipt to John with the words "What is missing from the bag?"

"Isn't that evidence withheld from the authorities?" John said back, refusing to take the paper.

It was always a thorn in Sherlock's side when he heard someone praising the guard. "It doesn't matter." He said confidently "They wouldn't do much with it anyway."

As an ex-guard Watson's pride crept back for a moment as she shouted "Sherlock, you're breaking the law!"

"Just have a look. What good will it do reporting it now Mr Law and Order?" Sherlock held it out with an open leg, wishing he would hurry up and take it. Though he condemned the act Watson followed Sherlock's command and, with hesitation, took the receipt. As he read Sherlock slipped on his scarf, tying it through a loop knot.

Watson took a little while to check off each item, causing Sherlock to pace rapidly and start walking over furniture impatiently. He demanded John hurried up a couple of times but he received the same response: "You told me to do this." Eventually John figured out the missing item. "It say's she bought... wait no..." he double checked it again "she was given a 'pirate costume'?" Now Watson really was baffled. "I suppose you know why?" He hoped Sherlock would set things in order and give an explanation.

"Not yet," John reckoned they were lost "but did you notice anything else about the items in the bag."

The contents of the grocery bag were spilled across the table, just like the pictures. John took a look, just like he did the pictures, and again his answer was a shrug of his khaki shoulders.

Sherlock yelled out in frustration. "Why can't you just open your eyes? Why do ponies have to be so utterly dim?"

"Hang on, what's that supposed to mean?"

A look of disbelief came over Sherlock as his eyelids shut tight. "You never think, never actually look at things you just gaze passed them like trees in the distance! The rose, John! There's a rose!"

John sniffled as Sherlock pushed the rose into his nose. He wafted it away, thought a sneeze was coming which never arrived, then scanned the receipt for a third time. "Oh right. So?"

Before Sherlock could respond he noticed Mrs Hudson had returned. She couldn't really be bothered with the guards. Ask her yourself and she would give you a good reason why. Something John had yet to find out.

"Don't be so ignorant, John. 'So?' is something a child would say. Never dismiss evidence." It seemed as though John was getting a telling off from Sherlock in front of Mrs Hudson. A bit embarrassing on his part. "It's important because the other two bodies were found with a single white rose too. It's a sign." Suddenly an idea sprang into his mind. "Perfect!" he said in an outburst.

He leapt over to the pile of papers and searched for two pieces which were blank, as well as a pen. He found the former but couldn't scavenge a pen. He tried to remember where he last had one, but when he opened his eyes he found Watson holding up a fountain pen to his face.

"Thank you. Now, Mrs Hudson, John, could you two please draw a birds eye view of a rose. Nothing artsy, just a simple, rough drawing in five seconds."

With an odd guise on each of their faces Hudson and John put pen to paper and drew their sketch. Sherlock actually timed them and stopped them when he counted to five. He was glad with the result. Both ponies had drawn five petals pointing outward from a centre of gold.

"Excellent," he said with his leg around Watson's neck "see how many petals there are?"

Both answered "Five." simultaneously.

"This is only a possibility, but I think the killer is going to strike two more times before he's done." Sherlock took a few steps back and rested his chin on his hoof.

"Well if that's true then shouldn't we be trying to stop him?" When he gained no answer he continued "Right now, I mean. Y'know, find the next target." Mrs Hudson vaguely knew what was going on however more pressing matters were at hand for herself, and since she knew she wouldn't get the answers she needed she excused herself as Sherlock stood in deep thought.

If Sherlock gave his true answer there and then the tone of the room would have changed rapidly, for the worse. Instead he opted for a more hopeful option and reclaimed the receipt from earlier.

"We need to find whoever sold the goods to our grocery mare." He lifted the receipt so the signature was both underneath and above a source of light. Then he smelled the ink and rubbed it with the stub of his hoof. "Stallions handwriting, unicorn from the looks of it, though big boned as he presses down hard on the pen." He turned his head to Watson "Unicorns usually apply the same force of magic as they would to something they do with their hooves. Ball pen, cheap, he works behind the counter where they are always signing things off."

Watson was getting used to this deduction so he piece it together in no time. "So our pony is a big boned unicorn who is stuck behind a till for most of the day? Shouldn't be too hard to find." He glanced outside and noticed that it was now evening. "We better go now then, before his shift ends." As he set off he realised something. "Did you call the dead mare 'grocery mare'?"

Sherlock nodded, seeing nothing wrong with it.

"Don't you have the decency to at least find out the victims name?"

A hundred reasons why knowing the name of a victim is pointless flowed through Sherlock's brain, but out of somewhere a fine idea clicked. "John you genius. What to Ruby Neigh and Glimmer Jule have in common? There names at least, yes, but in this case their occupation. Their jobs!" It occurred to Watson that Sherlock would answer his own questions this time. "They both worked with jewellery. First things first, lets find this unicorn. But now we've got something to search for!"

Sherlock galloped out of 221B calling back "Leave the jumper!" before Watson could get out of the door, like a colt running to his favourite sweet shop. As he was left in the dust Watson hurried down the stairs, opened the door and skidded to a standstill as Sherlock had stopped right in front of it. Only now did Watson notice how peculiar Sherlock's cutie mark was. He wasn't aware of his cutie mark until now, unknowingly neglecting it; A magnifying glass zoomed in on a brain filled with black question marks. Strange indeed Watson thought.

Sherlock turned to face his friend sat on his rump and staring at Sherlock's. For now he let it go and simply proceeded to to turn left and seek out the unicorn. As soon as Watson made eye contact with Sherlock he shot up and followed him, coughing nervously.

The evening grew darker as many ponies decided it was time to return home. Something provoked John to speak out against Sherlock for the incident with Pinkie Pie. He honestly felt sorry for that pony, after all her intentions were purely good.

"Could you please apologise to Pinkie Pie next time you see her?" John noticed he took a father role in odd conversations here and there, and while he didn't like it he thought it necessary. "There was no need for you to ruin her day."

The fountain began spurting less and less water as it slowly shut down for the night. "Not this again. I told her the truth, would you rather I lie?"

John thought that was reasonable. "Yes! Why not? At least you won't be sending her away in tears again."

"I can't John, you don't know what she's like." That was true, Sherlock had resided in Ponyville a good while longer than John, therefore he knew the ponies quite a bit better. "She's like a tapeworm. Once she's got you there's no getting her off."

"Don't compare a pony to a tapeworm." He shuddered at the thought.

Sherlock raised his head to the stars and said "Have you ever heard of the Elements of Harmony?"

"Of course."

"But you've never heard of them in relation to Ponyville?" John wondered what he was getting at.

After a good, hard think he replied with "No."

"You've a lot to learn about Ponyville then, John."