//------------------------------// // The Sign Of The Four, CHAPTER ONE: A Mare's Request // Story: Sheerluck Hooves // by SkelePone //------------------------------// “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.