The Adventures of Sherclop Pones

by B_25

Our Problem of the Pathway

It was around three o’clock when Rarity had finished her story. I had painstakingly convinced her to come with me downstairs, assuring her that resumption of her daily activities was the best possible treatment for her emotional shock. I left and waited while she dressed, and together we departed from the upper floor. Our entry into the bottom floor together was met with some small shock from Lestrade, who had been standing exactly where my counterpart was when I had left him. Eagerly, he smiled at both of us before addressing Rarity.

“Ah, Miss Rarity! A pleasure to see you!”

“I wish the same could be said of you, Inspector,” the lady replied coldly.

The vicious counterattack seemed to catch Lestrade unawares and between the ribs, though he bravely ignored it, instead turning to me before speaking.

“I must make my report to the local police station on my findings,” he said.

“You have discovered something new?” Said I.

“Indeed we have!” he replied delightedly, and I noticed by the inclusion of the pronoun that it had most likely been Pones who had struck gold somewhere, and not he. In any case, he turned swiftly and strode over to where the box lay, lifting it up and aside with a grunt and kneeling on the floorboards.

“See here!” he said, pointing to a chip mark in a wooden board.

“Why, it must have been dropped from some height!” I murmured, observing the box’s reinforced steel edges and cylindrical lid.

“Quite so. And, do you see this singing around the lock here?” he said, pointing to the strongbox’s latch, which lay on the floor, completely broken off. I looked closely, and observed the burn marks around its edges.

“Yes – you said you suspected some sort of gunpowder charge before.”

“Ah, initially that was so – but thanks to some of Mr. Pones’ reagent for testing for traces of magic,” he said triumphantly, “We have determined that the box is coated in a very light magical residue.”

“Which means?” I inquired.

“Obviously, it means that the box had magic used on it.”

“And how are these two details related?”

“It tells us that the perpetrator was a Unicorn,” he replied.

At this point, Rarity interjected with another cold command. To me, it was as if she was addressing a dog or some unpleasant other that had dragged itself through the door.

“Where is Mr. Pones right now?” she said, seeming to disregard the Inspector as the legitimate authority despite his labours. “I wish to speak with him.”

“He is just outside, Madam – I will take you to him.”

We trotted outside, and there, much to our collective surprise, we found Pones squatting in the garden just to the right of the front door. He was, as he had been before, idly examining everything except for the details, and was at current busily scrutinising a small plant that stood beside the doorway. Rarity called out his name, but he held up a hoof for silence.

“Allow me a moment, Rarity, to examine a few things,” he said before any of us could inquire as to his strange actions.

Lestrade was stunned into a humility that even Rarity’s coolness had not managed to inflict, and she herself was highly unamused – though whether that was because of Pones’ less than energetic attitude or because she was being ignored, I could not tell.

“What does he think he’s doing?” She hissed angrily at me.

“Be calm, Rarity,” I assured her. “Though I have not known him long, this is indeed the manner in which he works.”

“But the crime is inside, and not out,” added Lestrade in an amused tone.

Having finished his close inspection of the plant, Pones did a swift turn on the spot, and he proceeded down the fringe of the path that we had walked up on, all the while peering down at the hoofprints that had been left there, his eyes darting all over the wet clay. Two times he paused in his close and careful stride, and I heard him murmur an exclamation of satisfaction - on one occasion, the faintest trace of a smile passing over his face.

To my eyes, there were many hoofmarks on the soil. They were doubtlessly from the stream of police and visitors to the Boutique that had come and gone, and so many were there that I doubted that my friend could hope to learn anything new from his observations. Nevertheless, such an extraordinary mental quickness he possessed that I did not doubt that he could see a great deal more than a rank amateur such as I could.

Finally, he returned to us, treading back up the grassy side of the path. He seemed fairly content in something, though what conclusions he might have made were a mystery to me.

“Pones, two things – firstly, the lady would like a word with you,” Lestrade said before I could speak, “and secondly, the crime occurred inside, not outside.”

Pones shot him an amused glance.

“You think I am unaware of this?”

Lestrade, who looked considerably braver since Rarity had not lost her temper at him for the second time, spoke again. “I mean to say, of course, that perhaps your attention would be best left inside. I have already had the leisure of examining the exterior of the building.”

“And what did you conclude?” Said my companion, with some irritation. “That a rampaging herd of buffalo committed the theft? For that is what this appears to be,” he said, gesturing over to the path. Such a wilting attack from Pones I had experienced firsthand, and I thought the Inspector would crumble under his questions, but Lestrade again demonstrated his experience, shaking his head.

“No, though I made a point of looking at the pathway long before anypony arrived, and I concluded that there was nothing of interest there.”

“What did you see?” I inquired curiously, to which the detective shrugged.

“Three sets of hoof prints approaching, and two leaving,” he said. “Undoubtedly one set of prints belonged to Miss Rarity, and another to the thief.”

“And what of the third?” I inquired, to which Rarity spoke out.

“That would have been Fluttershy, earlier this morning, if I recall correctly.”

The details of her story were not lost on me, though they were new to Lestrade.

“Fluttershy?” He said, cocking his head to one side. “Are you referring to the shy young lady who visited before?”

“Yes I am, Inspector, and she has visited twice today.”

“Well, I should have words with her,” he said, smiling proudly at Rarity, who affixed him with such a withering glare that he swiftly added, “I will speak to her after I send a letter by last post to the ‘Yard. I am sure you have told Dr. Trotson all that there is to tell, so I will return later for the details.”

He bade all three of us good day, and, stepping lightly to one side of the pathway, set off back in the direction from which we had come.

“He is not very skilful, is he?” murmured Rarity as she watched him retreating.

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” said Pones, and here he walked over to Rarity and introduced himself, for he had not done so already.

“But of course, where are my manners. I am Mr. Pones, and doubtless you have met and talked to my friend Trotson.”

“Penelope Rarity,” she said, offering a hoof. “Before I begin, I might apologise for my rather unladylike and childish behaviour.” At this, she looked fairly sincerely at Pones’ hooves, but my companion simply shook his head.

“Symptoms of an acute stress reaction – I trust the good Doctor has given you treatment for it?” He winked at me in a fairly non-discreet way, and I caught on.

“Why, yes – we must pardon her for such behaviour. I have prescribed her to resume with her normal life, however, so I think that should prove a sufficient remedy!” I said, and Rarity beamed. I am confident she knew that it was a trick, but one that she appreciated nonetheless.

“So, Rarity, you wished to speak to me?” Pones inquired, after a moment of silence.

“Rather, I wished not to speak to the detective,” she replied with a slight of resignation. “He does not appear to have such a firm grasp on the issue, if you’ll pardon me for saying so.”

“Not at all, for I agree to an extent, but do not count our dear Lestrade out yet. He is the most keen and energetic of his lot, perhaps with the notable exception of one or two others, and he is not entirely hopeless.” At this, Pones turned back to the path. “He said he had already viewed the untouched path this morning, a most important observation that any slapdash policepony might simply have walked over, as it were.”

“I don’t know what you can see there that I cannot,” I said, squinting at the pathway, trying to make out the vague shapes of hooves.

“Indeed, it is difficult, but when you have learned the art of tracking from the teachers that I have, then this mess is not altogether unsalvageable. But let us put the problem of the path to the side for a moment, and instead hear what Rarity has to say.”

Rarity nodded, and began anew the dialogue that she had already told me, though considerably abridged, presumably for Pones’ benefit.

“I took delivery in the morning of the chest from the postman. I remember that at that time the gems were in it, for I opened it with my silver key and looked inside.”

“And what, pray tell, was the content of the chest?” Inquired Pones. He had on his look the concentrated gaze that I knew to mean his mind was now at work; ticking away on the clues before him.

“Twelve sapphires and four rubies. The rubies were trivial - two carats each; cut in classical brilliant fashion and around an inch in diameter, and the sapphires were similar, but cut in the shape of a teardrop. The majority of the shipment’s value was in a Lion's diamond, cut in the shape of a heart, which was ten carats.”

“My goodness,” I murmured. I knew, though I was no jeweller, that such a stone would have cost several hundred thousand golden bits. “Who on earth would order such a thing sequinned to a dress? It is far too expensive for that.”

“The rubies and diamond were intended for a tiara,” Rarity said.

Pones looked up from something, and I became aware that he had been writing notes ever since Rarity had begun speaking.

“Who was the tiara made for?”

Rarity lowered her voice.

“You are familiar with the Bluebloods, correct?”

We both nodded our simultaneous confirmation.

“It was made for the eldest daughter’s marriage to a very wealthy client – intended as a proposal gift.” she murmured so quietly I could barely hear her, and she glanced around nervously, as if looking for somepony snooping around. Pones did not write this down.

"I assume that is a detail not yet known to the public?” He inquired.

"Yes, that’s right. But the content of the boxes were all there, and I inspected them myself.”

“You are a qualified jeweller?”

“It is my heritage, and I grew up a Jeweller’s daughter.”

“Your mother’s influence, I take it?”

“Why, yes! How did you know?” she looked quite surprised that Pones had already concluded much about her.

“I read it,” he said, smiling weakly.

“In the papers!” I added with a cry of joy. I was immensely pleased that I had arrived at a conclusion of my own that had not involved Pones walking me through it.

“Excellent deduction, Trotson!” He turned to Rarity and elaborated, for she was slightly puzzled by my sudden exuberance.

“Simply put, Rarity, your mother is of the surname Sapphire, is she not?”

“Yes.”

“Then her family must in turn be related to gems, correct?’

“Just so.”

“Then we may assume that she is a member of the profession, for the skill and eye for beauty required for such employment would place a well-to-do mare such as she in the most appropriate position.”

Rarity thought briefly, and then smiled, voicing her surprise.

“Why, that is all true, and yet your thoughts are so simple, I would have never thought to cast my own eyes on it in such a way!” She said, and I was forcibly reminded of the very similar thoughts that had passed through my own head earlier that morning.

At this, Pones took a few steps out along the trail. He pointed with a grey hoof to a set of small hoofprints that were firmly imprinted on the clay gravel. Beside them were set another larger pair that I recognised to be my own, and a similar, smaller set that had been very firmly imprinted into the ground.

“See now, I think this is that young Pegasus lass, for you can see her footsteps to the door and back, followed by your own Trotson, though you have not left yet, so we may rule those pairs out of the mess. And there in the same manner are mine, slightly smaller but more pronounced.” He then turned to Rarity, and, quite to her and my own conjoined surprise, took her by the left forehoof, holding it up to the light so he could see the shoe on it.

“Ah, I recognise this!” he said, releasing her and turning back to the pathway. “See, you are here and there; for you have left the boutique, and come back as well. The tracks that are going to the road are sufficiently fainter then those coming to the door, which suggests that you had been out during the rain.” He turned to Rarity with a small smile. “So, you see, Rarity, already part of your tale is revealed to me.”

Rarity, if she had been surprised before, was now quite astonished by his conclusions, and she shook her curled mane in amazement.

“That is true, for I had been out last night.”

“Where to, and with whom?
”
“I was at a bar, if you must know,” she said, and here she coughed politely, “with a friend of mine.”

“The name of this friend?”

“Does it matter?” She inquired, and I knew she was reluctant to tell Pones.

“Everything matters,” I said, turning to Pones, who cast his glance over to me. “She was at a bar with her friend Miss Dash, to who you alluded before, and the pair of them became quite inebriated.”

Rarity turned an awful shade of scarlet at my admission, but she did not object, instead choosing to stew in her own embarrassment.

“Not very sophisticated, am I?” she said sadly, and here I noted that her accent had dropped slightly; and that there was a much less highly-strung and sincere voice behind all of her charade.

Pones tutted disapprovingly, though much to my surprise, I found that it was directed at me.

“Good lord, Trotson, have you no subtlety or sensitivity?” He said.

I was astonished and outraged.

“Fine talk coming from you!” I cried, intent on lecturing him, but I refrained, for I saw that he was laughing.

“Oh, Trotson, you are an amusing fellow,” he chortled, turning back to Rarity. “My dear, I doubt that my companion or I could judge you less for your nocturnal habits,” he said. “In fact, if my friend would permit himself to be the butt of a second joke in such a short timeframe, then suffice it to say his own nights are far from dull.”

I snorted impatiently.

“Please, Rarity, ignore this buffoon and instead continue with your story without further interruption,” I said testily, glaring at Pones. I imagined, out of the corner of my eye, that I saw briefest glimmer of a smile on her face, but when I looked back to her, she appeared to be very placid.

“V-very well,” she said, and her stammering voice betraying her humour to me, despite a very well-practiced and stony face adorning her features. I fixed her with what I hoped was an admonishing stare, and she hurriedly finished her story.

“I had returned in the evening, and I tried to unlock my door, and for whatever reason my key appeared to have become stuck in the lock. But this was not the case. The door was already unlocked, and I could not turn the lock any further, so I tried the doorhandle, and it swung inward. And there, I saw a figure in the darkness of the room, attempting to load the lockbox onto his back!”

Pones nodded and scribbled the details down.

“Did you get a good glance at whoever it was?”

“No, for he was dressed in black.”

“He?”

“Well – I do not know the identity of the burglar, but I assumed it to be a stallion,” she said, her face forming into a thoughtful variation of the same pout I had seen before.

“Is there a reason for this thought?”

“Well, the chest is fairly heavy. I couldn't lift it, you see, and I had to ask the guard who came with the shipment to assist me in moving it inside, to which he did so with a grunt, and he was very broad and tall.” She looked over at me and then back to my companion, sizing me up for comparative purposes. “I would say that the robber was just a lightweight though, for he was smaller than you, Mr. Pones.”

“In which case, if he was only a slight fellow, how did he manage to lift the chest?” I inquired.

“Levitation,” said Pones simply. He reached into his pocket and produced a small, clear vial stopped with a cork. The liquid inside was what I recognised to be Pones’ agent that he had discovered the day I met him. The vial was not overly full, and it looked as if some of it had been used.

“But of course!” I said. “The Inspector mentioned that you had applied some of it on the strongbox, and the results were positive.”

“Quite so,” he replied, nodding before continuing to Rarity. “And then, seeing you in fright, the thief dropped the box?”

“Yes,” replied Rarity. “So startled was he – for ease, let us assume that he was a stallion – that he jumped in alarm, and the box fell to the floor with a clatter.”

“What happened then?’

“He rushed me, and pushed me to one side before fleeing out of the door.”

“Did you give chase?”

“Well – no.” She looked upset again. “I was so panicked that I simply lay there for a while, fearing that he might return.”

“Do not think less of yourself for it,” Pones said seriously. “It was a brave act to challenge him at all, but it was foolish – what if he tried to hurt you?”

Rarity faltered, and turned to me for some comfort.

“Again, Mr. Pones, I was not exactly…” here she paused, searching for the right word.

“In the right state of mind,” said I, and she nodded in agreement. “Adrenaline evokes the fight or flight response, Pones, and there is often very little and rational thought in the heads of those stricken by extreme fear, as Miss Rarity was.”

Rarity gave me a look of happy relief as I finished, and I smiled back warmly, but our attention soon fell back upon Pones.

“Presumably, you then called the police.”

“Yes, and their appearance comforted me. There were two of them, and they reassured me that I would be safe. One stood watch in my lower room during the night in case the thief returned, and the other left to dispatch a letter to Canterlot, and when morning came they had left and Lestrade had arrived.”

“And what of Fluttershy’s hoofprints that Lestrade found along with the thief’s and your own?”

“That was after. She had come by the road in the morning from her house on the way into town, and noticed the police outside. She came to the door, and peeked in, but the Policepony inside told her to leave and come back later, so she did, and she left for a second time at around the moment you arrived.”

“Indeed,” I interjected. “I had a conversation with her out on the pathway.”

“So, returning to our problem of the pathway,” Pones said, “We have three other pairs of hooves…” His quick eyes darted around the pavement, presumably tallying the ponies to have come and go.

“And nobody visited you besides these ponies?”

Rarity thought hard for a moment before summing it up.

“In order I was visited by; the burglar, the two policeponies coming, one leaving to dispatch a message and re-arriving, Fluttershy coming and leaving, Lestrade coming, the two policeponies leaving, and then Fluttershy once more. Then you came, and it ends with Lestrade leaving,” she said.

“You have not left the house?” I inquired.

“No, for at first I was too afraid, and the policeponies thought it might be best for me to stay inside, so I have not left since.”

“Then it is as Lestrade says, all the hoofprints barring the robbers are accounted for.” I turned to Pones. “Have you found the culprit’s tracks?”

“Indeed I have,” said he, and at this he kneeled and hovered his hoof over a faded, yet very deep and wide hoofprint.

“This print here,” he said thoughtfully.

“But,” I protested. “That cannot have been so, for the robber was of a light build!”

“I am aware,” said Pones pointedly. “But they are the only set of hooves left.” He glanced over at Rarity. “Are you definite that he was of a light build?”

“Positive,” said Rarity. “I remember very clearly, because I was not bowled over by his charge when he made a break for the door, merely shunted to one side, and it was more of my surprise that made my fall.”

For a while then, we sat and looked at the clay path. I was clueless, and Pones, it seemed, was in his peak of mental concentration. But, to my surprise, it was Pones who spoke first, breaking the silence.

“He was more than six feet high. He was also moderately-built, in the prime of his life, and he wore a set of very fine shoes.” He then looked up at Rarity.

“Did you strike your assailant?”

“I did, in fact,” said Rarity with some surprise.

“Ah, what excellent work that was!” I cried.

I had been something of a boxer in my schooling years, which gave me a much deeper and firmer appreciation for the fighting spirit than many would give me credit for, being the quiet soul that I was. Had I been so inclined, my coach once said of me, I could have had a bout in the semiprofessional circuit upon the completion of my schooling, but instead I chose the more immediate desire of being a doctor.

“Where did you hit him exactly?” I inquired, for I had since forgotten.

“I don’t remember,” Rarity said. “I just closed my eyes and swung wildly, and it connected."

My companion grimaced and rose to his feet.

“You have scrubbed your hooves since?”

“Yes, I have,” she said, to which my companion let out a small groan.

“Alas, for there might have been a scraping of skin or a snatch of blood I might have taken.”

“Oh no, there was no blood – of that I am sure,” said Rarity, though her features had again adopted one of her more pathetic looks from upstairs. “All the same, I apologise for being such a hindrance.”

“Think nothing of it!” Pones stated quite firmly. “You have been through more than enough for one day.” At this, he turned to me.

“Come along, Doctor,” he said; “We shall go and have a chat with Miss Fluttershy. Rarity, you should get some rest,” He said, spotting the mare let out a small yawn.

“But wait, what of the inconsistency with the hoofprints?” She said.

“I am not sure, though I have a hunch,” said he. “I must speak to this Fluttershy before I am to conclude anything.”
He turned to me.

“And I believe you have an appointment with Miss Redheart, do you not?”

I jumped. I had completely forgotten, of course, and I looked at my watch. Thankfully I still had plenty of time.
“Yes I do, but that is not for at least a few hours yet.”

“You’ll be cutting it quite fine if you want to make it to the Clinic from Fluttershy’s house,” interjected Rarity.

“That is a risk that I am willing to run!” I said, rubbing my front hooves together. “This whole detective business is fascinating.”

“Well, I must thank you so much for your help. I really do appreciate your enthusiasm!” She said with a smile, walking over to me. “Thank you for your kind words earlier,” she murmured honestly, kissing me on the cheek in farewell. I returned it in kind, and she repeated the act for Pones before we said goodbye, and set off towards the main road alongside the path.

We were a good distance from Rarity’ boutique when we arrived back at the main road. Here, he and I stood and discussed what we had learned earlier, as well as our plans for the immediate future.

“Rarity said earlier that Fluttershy’s was just up the road,” I remembered.

“Do you still want to speak to her?” Pones inquired, and my own mind started turning over in thought.

“I believe,” I said after a while, “that it may be for the best, for she knows who you are, and her temperament seems to be on the more cautious side of ‘wary’.”

“Is that so?” he said, though what part of my question he was referring to I had no idea.

“Yes to both – you did not tell me that you were famous?”

“Was there ever a need?”

“I should think that I had gained your confidence enough by now to be told as much.”

“I am not widely famous – this Fluttershy must be well read, for in passing and legend is the only place where I am mentioned.”

“In any case, I should really come with you.”

“Yes,” said Pones, affixing me with a very focused stare. “You seem to have a way with fillies, Trotson.”

“Years of study and practice,” I said, without thinking. My companion started to laugh, and I realised the confusion of my words. I turned to him incredulously.

“You remember your own words on studying you when we left the train? Well, I wish to say I have obtained one piece of data since we got off the train, and that is this: for someone so well-grown, Sherclop Pones is extremely juvenile!”

To this, he chuckled even harder, his deep laughs the most joyous emotion I had seen from him yet. For a while he sat there, until he caught his breath enough to speak.

“Ah, you entertain me so, Trotson,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye with a hoof. “Very well then, let us go to Fluttershy’s.”
“You don’t honestly believe that she was capable of such a theft from her dear friend?” I said incredulously. “Furthermore, she is a Pegasus. They cannot use magic.”

“All the same, I said to Cheerilee that I would not leave a stone unturned, and we should not simply cast her thoughts aside just because she is a good friend,” he said seriously. “I have known far less sinister in appearance to commit a crime then she.”

“You may change your mind when you meet her proper.”

“Be that as it may,” he said to me, “we should get moving.”

I agreed, and together we began walking down the sloping road that lead further still from the centre of town.

Comments

[CluelessDetective]

Great chapter! I'm afraid I found one mistake:
“Indeed we have!” he replied delightedly, and I noticed by the inclusion of the pronoun that it had most likely been Holmes who had struck gold somewhere, and not he.
Holmes? I thought it was Pones in this story!

[writer]

399644
Gaaaargh, Freudian slips

Thank you for pointing that out though