//------------------------------// // A Study In Scarlet, CHAPTER TWO: The Arcane Science of Deduction // Story: Sheerluck Hooves // by SkelePone //------------------------------// “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.”