• Published 8th Dec 2018
  • 270 Views, 31 Comments

Black and Blue and Bloodied - Sixes_And_Sevens



Celestia, sick of her nephew's bad behavior, sends him on an adventure with the ninth Doctor. Together, they investigate a series of murders connected to a mining disaster-- or they will if they can stop arguing.

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The Ponies in Blue

Sergeant Haddock gave the two prisoners a hard look. They didn't look quite the same as they had earlier. He was quite certain, for instance, that the unicorn hadn't been that disheveled, and the earth pony had somehow obtained a black eye. He scowled. “No rough’ousin’ in the paddywagon,” he said.

The green one hiccuped and rolled his eyes. “Right. Whatchu gonna do, arrest us for it?”

The white one poked him sharply. “Shh, shh,” he hissed. “‘s th’ p’lice. I can't go t’ jail, ‘m too pretty…”

Haddock stared. Babbling, slurring... Drunk as lords, the pair of them. “Come on, you sots, let's get you to a holding cell til you've dried out enough to interview.”

He pulled the green one to his hooves. There was a retching noise, and suddenly a banana and some cider made a reappearance all over the back of the paddywagon. Haddock stumbled backwards into the other one, who shoved him away in surprise. The police officer straightened up, scowling. “Right! On your hooves, and come with me.”

The two prisoners stumbled after the stallion. Within a few minutes, they were in a cell, and Haddock had left for the sanctuary of his desk.

"Excellent work," Blueblood said. "How did you get your breath to smell of alcohol when you haven't had a drop?"

"Combination of Gallifreyan biology and psychic suggestion," the Doctor replied. "It'll fade in a few minutes."

Blueblood wrinkled his nose. "Good."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Right. Now what?” he asked.

“You said they took your screwdriver?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you get us out if you still had it?”

“Easy as pie.”

“Don't say ‘pie’. Vile, commoner food. Any rate, here you are.” He produced a thin, silver wand.

The Doctor stared. “How?” he asked. “You've still got that inhibitor on your horn.”

Blueblood smirked. “That's the thing about unicorns. Ponies assume that without magic, we're useless. We've still got hooves, you know.”

Slowly, the Doctor grinned. “Awright,” he said. “Let's get this lock undone and—”

“Not yet,” Blueblood interrupted. “I have been thrown in this tank for intoxication more times than I can recall. They keep an eye in these cells. We need a distraction.”

“I'm guessing you already have one in mind?”

“Mm. A little music should lighten things up,” Blueblood said. He cleared his throat. “OOOOOHHHHHH, A custard is a lovely thing, so pale and warm and qui-ver-ing…”

The Doctor watched in bemused fascination as the prince continued to extol the virtues of custard at the top of his lungs. His eyes widened when he heard other voices begin to join in.

“Popular song?” he asked.

The prince smirked. “It has been known to come in handy every now and again. Come on, give us a few bars.”

The Doctor cleared his throat and hummed. “When’s the chorus come?”

Blueblood shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. Everypony here’s as drunk, mutually, as a family of skunks that have taken up residence in a wine cellar. Harmony is as an unfamiliar concept to them as sobriety.”

“Right. A custard is a luv’ly thing…”

“No, stop. You’re too good.” Blueblood corrected. “This is drunk singing, remember.”

The Doctor gestured toward the lock. “How about I jus’ get the door?”

“A moment.” Blueblood glanced down the hallway. “Excellent. Noddy Winks is on duty.”

“Oo?”

“Semiretired night watchmare. Never quite got out of the sleep cycle. Look.”

The Doctor peered down the hall. An elderly purple pegasus was leaning back in a chair at the desk. Her eyes were drooping already. “Just give it a moment,” Blueblood continued. “Three… two… now.”

True to the count, the mare’s eyes fluttered closed, apparently lulled to sleep by the drunken singing. “Go,” Blueblood hissed.

The Doctor held his screwdriver up to the lock. There was a brief hum, and the door sprung open. Blueblood regarded the device, impressed. “What did you call that? A screwdriver?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said, trotting out of the cell toward the door leading out of the holding area. “It’s brilliant. Unlocks doors, trips switches, blows fuses, scans tech. Once, I even used it to undo some screws.” He pushed at the door. It didn’t budge. His face fell. “Sod. They’ve barred it from the outside.”

Blueblood waved a hoof at the sonic. “Use your little wand, then.”

“It doesn’t do wood,” the Doctor muttered.

The prince blinked. “Sorry?”

“I said, it doesn’t do wood.” the Doctor repeated a little louder.

Blueblood snorted a laugh. “That’s absurd.”

“No it isn’t!” the Doctor protested, holding the sonic to his barrel. “This’s gotten me out of more scrapes than you’ve had diplomatic incidents!”

“Oh, certainly,” the unicorn said, rolling his eyes. “Unlocks, undoes, unscrews, but it doesn’t do wood. That is ridiculous!”

The guard snorted in her sleep and her eyelids flickered. Both stallions froze, staring at her in horror. Noddy yawned and relaxed once more. The Doctor let out a deep breath and Blueblood wiped his forehead. “Okay,” the Doctor whispered. “Fine. Yes, it is a bit rubbish in this particular situation, but it’s fantastically useful for most things. Now, how can we get out of here without the sonic?”

Blueblood thought for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Right, stupid question,” Blueblood decided. “But do you have any good ideas?”

“Not just at present,” the Doctor admitted. “Let’s have it, then.”

“Okay,” said Blueblood, leaning in. “This is what we’re going to do…”

***

The patrolponies of Canterlot Police Department precinct 17 did not generally have much to do. They were understaffed, underworked, and extremely bored. In a city more often patrolled by royal guards, it is easy to lose one’s edge, particularly when the city is also closely monitored by the practically-omniscient diarchy that moves the sun and moon in their orbits. It was a quiet beat, usually just the occasional bit of white-collar crime regularly interspersed with mind-numbing terror which would ultimately be dealt with by the Elements of Harmony. The murder of Lord and Lady Ring was the most interesting thing to happen since the return of Discord. The job was routine. It was dull. It was practically a way of life. When faced with something absurd or unusual, it had become their practice to merely observe it from a distance while waiting for it to be taken care of by a group of six mares with flashy jewelry.

They should not be judged too harshly, therefore, for stopping to stare at the door to the drunk tank as it was bucked right off its hinges. Before the dust had even settled, a green-and-white blur leapt through the portal. It slowed enough for the assembled to see that it was, in fact, a white unicorn riding a very grouchy green earth pony. “Why did I agree to this?” the latter asked.

“Because you’re very obliging. Now hush.” The unicorn looked out at the crowd of police officers, all staring back in mild shock. “Friends! I know that this has been a time of great trial and tribulation for us all,” he began.

“Not really,”

“I’m doing alright.”

“Well, my auntie’s been sick…”

“Trial and tribulation,” Blueblood repeated. “The deaths of Lord and Lady Ring is a tragedy, and a pall settles over Canterlot.”

“‘E was a womanizer, an' she made knockoff 'andbags.” the Doctor said flatly.

“And they were great patrons of industry and of the arts,” Blueblood argued. “At any rate, fear not, peasantry! I, your prince, have returned to right this wrong!”

“Oi, Little Boy Blue. If you’re trying to get somepony on your side, don’t call them peasants.”

“Quiet, peasant. Now, away!” The prince held a hoof aloft dramatically. The Doctor sighed and ambled forward, grumbling. The officers of the law watched them go with mouths agape all the way up until the front doors slammed shut.

“We’re just pretending that didn’t happen,” one decided. With much nodding and muttering, the others returned to their work, confident that things would be dealt with. Whatever those things were.

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