Sherlock Hooves and the Case of the Missing Scooter

by elbj

Dad

I arrived at my house and was greeted by the pungent smell of burning food, my Dad, the town time turner, Doctor Whooves, was trying to cook again. I rushed into the kitchen fearing the worst may have happened and I was right. Dinner was ready.

"Well you're home late, Sherlock," he said, "Anything I should be worried about?" He brought over the charred remains of what was supposedly a meal. Upon further inspection, the food looked familiar.

"Are these the leftovers from last night’s dinner?" I asked.

"Yes, they are! Why do you ask?" He really had no idea when it came to cooking.

"Dad, I made salad last night." I couldn't believe it.

"Yes and I made crispy salad tonight, now eat up. You know leftovers don't taste as good when you reheat them a second time," He didn't even need to reheat these the first time. I groaned to remind him how much I loathed his cooking, if you can even call it that, and took a bite. The crispy salad was unsurprisingly awful. It was chalky and tasted like ash. I forced down each bite, and it took everything I had to keep it down. Dad laughed at my obvious displeasure.

"If you don't like it, get home earlier next time so you can cook," He said. I was going to groan again but my stomach beat me to it. My Dad never gave me a curfew, I never needed one, the incentive to keep him from cooking was enough to get me home at a decent hour, that and I was only 7. "So," he said picking up where had originally left off, "Why were you late coming home?" He had dropped the lighthearted tone from his voice and replaced it with a much more serious one.

"Well, I was, uh, helping out a friend," even though it was the truth, I had not prepared for a dinner time interrogation. If I was him, I probably wouldn’t have believed me either.

"Oh really?” he asked, “Who is this friend? What were you helping this friend do?" I hate it when he gets like this. He never trusts me.

"Yes, ‘this friend’ is Scootaloo and we were helping look for something." I still needed to sort out what the plan would be for tomorrow. We were back to square one with no leads and no evidence.

"We?" he asked, "Who is 'we'?" I was glad to hear the serious tone start to fade from voice.

"Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and I, that is the 'we'." My dad's eyes lit up.

"Oh ho ho, Sherlock you're a stallion stud just like your dear, old Dad. One day at school and you've already got two girls all over you," He chuckled to himself. I just stared blankly at him wondering what he was talking about. "So who's cuter out your two filly friends?" Oh, that's what he meant, but did he not realize that they were all fillies? And which one did he think wasn’t a filly? I found the second part of my dad’s ignorance quite funny, but it didn't matter, we weren't about to have this conversation. I had more important things to attend to then giggle about foalementary school gossip with my dad. I got up from the table and went to my room shutting the door behind me.

I needed to figure out my plan of action for tomorrow. First things first, I would need to question all the foals at school. After that is where things were a little more unclear. Where to begin? If things went half as smoothly as today we'd still have plenty of time to at least talk to the remaining suspects. If we start at Fluttershy's and work our way over to Rainbow Dash's after we eat at the clubhouse that should leave plenty of time to reevaluate everything up to that point and hopefully figure this out. There was a knock on my bedroom door.

"Sherlock, can we talk? You seemed a little more distracted at dinner than usual," He said in his best fatherly tone. It wasn't very believable. We both knew he wasn't good at the parenting stuff. That's why I cook.

"Oh? I'm surprised you could pick up on that with all your laughing and giggling." I wasn't really in the mood for family bonding at the moment.

"Come on, Sherlock," he said. "I know when something's bothering you. You've never been good at hiding your emotions." He was right. I can read people pretty well, I know most of the telltale sign when ponies are lying, but I have hard time hiding those same signs. I think it’s because pony eyes are so big, it makes every little thing that much easier to see.

"Fine, come in," I said. I kept my back to him hoping he'd leave quickly.

"What's up, Sherlock?" he asked
"You know how we were searching for my friend’s scooter today?"
“Yes, that’s about all you said at dinner before you got up and left,” he said.
"Well we weren't looking for it because it was lost. We were looking for it because it was stolen." My dad reeled back and sat down in shock.

"Sherlock, that's a very heavy accusation, ponies don't often steal, especially here in Ponyville. Are you sure it was stolen?"

"I'm positive." I knew what he meant. Accusing somepony of stealing would damage their reputation even if it were untrue. When I found whoever took the scooter I had to be one hundred percent sure it was them before I accuse them of anything.

"Ok, if you say so I believe you, but be careful. Word travels fast around town. If it gets out that you're looking for a thief, it won't be long before the thief finds out," He said warily. "Keep this between yourself and your friends for now. And I’ve got some advice for you. If you're going to catch a thief you need to think like a thief! Remember that." He leaned back on his haunches and puffed out his chest a little, like he had said something deep and profound. I rolled my eyes at his 'words of wisdom'. What he had just said was actually really, really stupid, but I didn't want to ruin his moment.

"Oh, wow!" I gasped trying not to sound overly dramatic, "Thanks, Dad. I never thought of it like that." He laughed and rubbed my head with his hoof, messing up my mane and causing it to hide my face, as well as the fact that I was lying. Apparently satisfied with the knowledge he thought he had enlightened me with, he stood back up and made his way out of my room. I breathed a sigh of relief, time to get back to business.

"You know, Sherlock, if you ever need help don't be afraid to ask me I think I've got a knack for this mystery stuff." How does he not see that I'm trying to work here! I never bothered him this much when he worked. I mean I'm not allowed to see what he works on in the basement, or I'll get grounded, but that's not the point. I turned around and saw his head sticking out into the doorway. I should have known he was still there, I never heard the door to my room shut.

"Dad, this is my problem and as of right now I'd like to try and fix it on my own. Thanks anyways." It came out colder than I had intended. I looked back at my Dad, but never saw his reaction to my stinging words. He had closed the door and left me alone, just like I had asked, just like I had wanted.

I guess now would be a bad time to go ask him if he had seen Applejack and Big Mac selling apples at the market today. Now I needed to add that to the list of things for tomorrow, along with clearing up Pinkie's story of going to the spa. These two trips didn’t seem like they’d add too much time to the route, but after today, every new side trip made me worried. This case was still a long way from over. I mulled over the plans trying to see if anything could possibly delay or stop us from getting where needed to be tomorrow, I couldn't afford another Pinkie incident.

I stretched my forelegs as I woke up and looked outside. It was still dark out. I had passed out devising my plans. I removed the paper that I was taking notes on that had gotten stuck to my face as I slept. I tossed next to my bed as I crawled into my covers to go back to sleep, I needed to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to an important day; I can't afford to be sleepy. I went over today’s events in my head one last time before bed, everything from after school to now. Something felt off, but I couldn't put my hoof on it. A faint idea popped into my head, and I thought about it for moment. It seemed logical, but was my dad really right? And if he was, did that mean it was too late? A lot rode on this idea and I was too tired to think it out clearly right now. I fell asleep leaving it to marinate in my mind until morning.

Comments

[Nolongerposting]

Great chapter. Thankfully my dad isnt like Sherlock's dad. My dad cooks, its my mom that isnt the best but shes nowhere as bad as Sherlock's. Cant wait for the next update.

[elbj]

2698075
Thanks! And yea It thought his Dad's cooking was a good way of explaining the "get done before dark" thing instead of just saying its scary at night. Also made for some easy jokes

[Nolongerposting]

2698115
Yeah parents cooking is either something you look forward to or fear. My dad is a good cook Hes just not home much. But the only time iIve ever heard of him messing up was one thanksgiving he acidently made the gravy with powdered sugar instead if flour. But he only did that because my mom acidently switched where the powdered sugar and the flour were.

[elbj]

2698132
Hahahaha oh my god, that's hilarious! Sucks about your dad though. My dad isn't home much either, he travels a lot for work. Both of my parents can cook pretty well, its just finding the time to cook is hard for them. But its ok, now I'm starting to get better at cooking. I make a pretty mean sandwich.

[Sonicrules831]

Great work! Keep it up :)

[elbj]

2698209
Thanks!