Sherclop Pones and the Adventure of Pinkie's Cupcakes

by A Sherlockian Brony

Chapter 22: The Professor

Sherclop Pones, upon concluding on his long and extraordinary and fantastic statement, leaned back upon his chair, and blew a large puff of smoke. There he remained silent, smoking his cigar, as we watched the Captain join his wife in the carriage, and as Twilight Sparkle watched it depart. Here I watched them and the other five of the Six absent-mindedly, as I thought how much Equestria owes its continual existence to this little band of young heroines. Ms. Sparkle seemed to remark something, for her mouth moved, but I was quite unable to hear it despite being in a near distance. The sound of detonating fireworks and the upbeat music drowned her words.

Her juvenile dragon that had rested on top of Ms. Pie’s curly-maned head seemed to tell a joke, for upon uttering a statement, the Six broke into laughter.

Then, breaking me from my reverie, Sherclop Pones, in a voice of his cold-blooded and reserved demeanor, said once more—

“Who is the Professor?” He gave a dramatic pause. “What kind of cruel monster could ever commit such an act of treason just for his own selfish benefit—and in the process, was willing to sacrifice the millions who live under the Monarchy in order to do so? It speaks volumes of unmitigated evil. And with that evil had been infinitely rendered more dangerous by his talent of ruthless mathematical efficiency in which he employed to ensure the plot’s success, who knows the extent of it! How many more ponies would suffer under his grasp? He had nearly succeeded in his plans, if Twilight Sparkle hadn’t placed her confidence upon her feminine instincts to act—Sweet Celestia, imagine the horror! Who is he, then?”

“Who indeed,” said I. “It seems impossible to name him. We know not a single slither of his identity!”

“Yes, indeed we do not,” said Pones coolly as he disintegrated the remnants of his cigar into thin air with his horn. “We may not, Watcolt, know who he is, however, but can know WHAT he is.”

I looked at him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“We can form a vague outline image of his malevolent character by the knowledge we know. And in doing so, we may, to a certain sense, determine who the Professor is. Let us begin by reasoning forwards with our information—

“He has a great intellectual mind of ruthless mathematical faculties—that point is absolutely certain, for the way in which he employed this wild goose chase speaks volumes of his extreme mental powers that, I daresay, may be in par with my own intellectual field. He had intercepted my nature and my traits and found a way to counter it and use it against me in order to achieve his ultimate goal…who’s to say that he isn’t a great intellectual?

“He is a great evil—he committed an act of treason just for his own and (and unknown) and selfish benefit. And in the process of doing so risked millions of lives just for it. It radiates of his unhinged and unsympathetic wrath.

“The next point in which I am about to state, Watcolt, may impress you to be too fantastic to believe—the Professor, as I sense, runs an organization—”

“My dear Pones!”

“Why, yes, do you not yourself see it? Committing such a diabolical act surely couldn’t benefit just ONE individual. There are other benefactors at play...”

“But how did you come to this?”

“By returning to the suggestion that some sort of deal had been between both parties in which enable them to benefit from one another, I questioned in what way could this Professor benefit from it? The Changelings we already know—they feast upon the love of the Monarchy, but how does ensuring their success of doing so benefit the Professor? He has to, in some way or another—but in what way is that way? We can only ascertain that answer by going back round to how the relationship of both parties started—

“The Queen had listened to the Professor’s reasoning, and agrees to assist her in the plot. But in order for her to agree upon it, she must’ve placed her full trust upon him. And in doing so, the Professor attains an ally in his part.”

“A very powerful ally indeed,” said I. “But how—oh! Of course! That was his reason—to attain an ally! But how does that lead to your deduction that he runs an organization?”

“By attaining such a powerful ally (which further reinforces the idea of a win-win negotiation) provides him the opportunity to use her to his own benefit in future expeditions—”

“Expeditions in what?”

“Power, Watcolt—that is the driving force of all that is evil.”

“Power for what?”

Sherclop Pones shook his head gravely. He then continued—

“This, then, further supports the idea of running an organization and reject the one of single individual of the driving motive of his acts. For what could an Equestrian such as himself (as he previously deduced to be) benefit from attaining such an ally unless he was running organization?”

“Sweet Celestia!” I cried, placing a hoof to my forehead. “What conclusions do you form from this, then?”

Sherclop Pones turned round his chair, curling himself up in it with his knees drawn up to his hawk-like muzzle, as his eyes remained motionless, he said in his cold and analytical fashion:

“The Professor possess unpaired intellectual capabilities and a ruthless talent of mathematical efficiency in which he employs to manage and even strengthen a mighty organization that runs deep into society, and that he is willing to take the most extreme of measures to achieve his goal—”

“But what is that goal?”

“That, we may never know until we know for ourselves who the Professor is.”

“But WHO is he?!”

Pones shook his head with a grave expression.

“I do not know, I’m afraid,” said he. “It is, as you remarked, impossible to know for we do not know a slither of his identity, and yet we know WHAT he is. Nevertheless, he is as mysterious and unknown as his motives.”

He trailed off and entered yet into another reverie. His mind embarked on another unknown line of thought.

Sherclop Pones, who had remained utterly in silence during this strange event, merely continued to stare blankly at the Six as they danced along amongst the crowd. It was clear that he was equally unnerved as I had been of our adventures, for, using his pea-jacket like a warm blanket, he wrapped himself in it. He then heaved a sigh as he looked up at the night sky. He looked at my direction, but his eyes seemed to look far into the future.

“Who is he, Watcolt? said he. “Who truly is the Professor? Is he some ancient entity such as the kind of Discord, or Grogar, or Lord Tirek? Or is he something much—worse? Is he a being of pure and unhinged evil that he takes pleasure in tormenting the lives of millions; does he wish to bend the will of the Monarchy to his own bidding; or is he—well, whatever he may be, Watcolt, justice shall be brought upon him. However clever, I’ll bring it to him!”

“But how?!” I cried. “With his power, as you say he has, it is impossible to beat this king-devil!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, my dear Watcolt. He may be all-powerful, but he isn’t unbeatable as you say he is. How do you expect we are still here where we are now? He may have concocted the ingenious case to divert me—and divert me it did—”

“But you saw through his lie!”

“And the attack still happened, did it not? Nevertheless, Watcolt, it still resulted to a complete and utter failure for he made a very tiny blunder—that is neglecting to account a very vital factor—that this the existence of Twilight Sparkle. He had never appreciated the point that if a Changeling were to take on a form and steal one’s identity, that the associates of the one whose identity is being theft may find something a bit off in his friend’s demeanor—like it isn’t his friend at all—and eventually came to conclusion that he is an imposter. Thus, doing this, resulted to everything coming to naught—his concoction and the Queen’s plot—they were all for nothing. You see, he isn’t unbeatable—like how I am. I had let my conceit get the best of me, while his neglect for equine nature and perhaps, dare I say, the value of friendship, did to his. Just give me time—just give me time, even it may cost my neck, and I shall deliver him into the doorstep of justice...”

“No, my dear fellow,” said I. “We shall do this together—till the bitter end.”

Sherclop Pones, whom had conveyed more emotions in this night more than within the entirety of our acquaintance, looked at me appreciatively. He then extended a hoof, while I accepted it. His expression beamed expressively, as if to thank me: his thin grey eyes twinkling.

We then sat in silence, smoking our cigars as we admired the illuminated night sky and languidly reposed in the immersion of the sound of music and jubilation: uncertain of the future that lay ahead of us.

Author's Note:

And to my long-suffering readers, I thank you for managing to read this long and I hope you enjoyed doing so

Comments

[Merrrylongford]

Thanks for sharing that information. KohlsFeedback.com

[jimerjam]

the wierd bit is I actually had a strange dream about a sherlock inspired fic, and now here it is.
I have been on this website far too long.

[A Sherlockian Brony]

11576767
Ha, glad to sort of bring that dream into fruition

[Starlight Nova]

Who is Moriarty in this universe?

[A Sherlockian Brony]

11583538
I haven't explicitly revealed his ponified identity yet, but he's only known through his alias as "The Professor"

[sirenc0re]

im absolutely in love with this story. the idea of a pony sherlock holmes story is so charming and I think the execution here is practically perfect. i'll admit I havent read the books themselves, but I do recognize the distinctive late 19th century writing style that mustve come with them, and its a joy to read through. major kudos from me to you <3

[A Sherlockian Brony]

11599076
Ayo, this made my day; thank you
I tried to write it on a pastiche level of Conan Doyle's semi-romantic, semi-concise diction, and I'm glad that you liked it.

[Slamp5000XL-3-0]

Pero que buena historia 10/10, lo único que no me gustó, es los últimos capitulos podrías haber hecho la explicación en un capítulo o dos, pero de igual forma me encantó este fic, haber que pasará en la secuela