“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.