First Bits
There was a bit lying on the floor. It’s a shiny, new bit. It didn’t even belong there, and yet, there it was. It had fallen out of a box of new coins, through a crack in the carton that wasn’t noticed. It was the newest design, and for now, pretty unique. And so, the bit was lying on the floor, Celestia side up, Luna side down. The elder sister looked up to the ceiling lights with a serene, motherly and determined expression. Luna was kept in the dark.
It had rolled into the visitor’s section, where it was noticed by a little filly.
“Look mommy!” she exclaimed, her little hoof pointing to the floor. “A bit!”
The mother chuckled. “That’s amazing! You could buy something from that. Like…” She trailed off, thinking, looking to her daughter with a small smile.
The little filly grinned. “Like an ice cream?” she said, starting to bounce up and down.
The mother chuckled and nodded. “Yes, like an ice cream! Come on, let’s go get one.”
The filly cheered, and mother and daughter were off towards the ice cream booth standing in front of the building. The little filly kept the coin in her magical grasp, concentrating quite hard, proud of her finding. Both Celestia and Luna could finally see their surroundings and glimmered happily in the lamplight, and, eventually, the sun. The filly may or may not have dropped her concentration a few times, but the mother’s magic always made sure that the coin was still with them.
Outside, at the ice cream booth, a pegasus was standing behind the counter, scooping up ice cream for the ponies standing in line. The two got in the line, and soon enough, the bit - along with a few others - were exchanged for two nice ice cream cones..
There, in the dark of the cash register, between all the other bits, neither Celestia nor Luna could see anything. What they could make out in the brief moments of light were the fact that the coins were older. Many Celestia’s looked on with a stern gaze, and on the flip side, the Equestrian weapon.
The same day, the coin was given to a customer as change. The coin rattled in the pocket between the other coins and bits of junk. There was a knife between them, a small pocket knife that had never been used. The Two Sisters had barely seen anything of the customer - merely that they were dressed quite fashionably, which only the eldest could appreciate. The younger sister hadn´t been able to follow the latest fashion all that much.
The pocket darkened as their bearer entered a building. The muffled, but echoing clip-clop of hooves on marble indicated that they had entered a hallway that was quite grand. No doubt a mansion belonging to either him or one of his friends. A while later, polite, yet friendly remarks followed, as well as the soft tinkling of teacups and tea being poured. After a while of polite conversation, the tone suddenly began to harshen and the atmosphere became heavier and heavier.
There was no way the two Sisters could have seen it coming, nor could they have prevented it. They could merely watch and live through it. Their bearer stood up, briskly, coins rattling, and a hoof grabbed a few of the coins, including Celestia and Luna, In fact, the Two Sisters were the ones he seemed to be aiming for.
He held the bit up, Luna side towards the other stallion in the room. In turn, Celestia could see their bearer. In any case, their bearer pressed it against the victim’s hoof. Trails of smoke of dark magic seemed to erupt from the coin and waving against the other pony, slowly choking him with its magic.
It was as if in a haze, but after the deed was done, their bearer put it in his pocket as if nothing had ever happened. The Celestia’s were just as shocked as the Sisters, the Equestria’s shaken with anger.
The next day, the bit was exchanged for a newspaper.
“MULTIMILLIONAIRE MURDERED: MADNESS AT VERMILLION HOUSE”
~~~
It was damp in the living room, smoke billowing everywhere. The windows weren’t open. As Doctor Trotson walked into the living room of their shared apartment, he was met with an immediate coughing fit. The room wasn’t large, but it was packed with all kind of stuff. On one hoof there was a fireplace, on the other a couch. In front of the fireplace were two large armchairs, a coffee table in between; a stallion was sitting in one of them. And every free space around the room was filled with knick-knacks and strange objects: pony skulls, strange-looking globes, a severed horn, and others; and besides that, papers were strewn about, books open on the floor, or closed on a free spot on the table.
Trotson kept coughing. “My word, Shirelock! If you insist on smoking, open a window, please!” He waved his hoof, as if to wave away the smoke, and tiptoed through the mess his roommate left, to open the window. Below, in Haymaker Street, many ponies were already out and about on their daily business. There was a lot to do and no time to waste.
Shirelock, however, was simply sitting in his chair, his pipe lit, smoke billowing everywhere. He looked peeved that he had been interrupted from his thinking. He squinted as the sun shone into his eyes. “Doctor Trotson…” he murmured, blowing a bit more smoke into the air. “You know smoking helps me concentrate.”
Trotson merely rolled his eyes and straightened his dark jacket. It colored well with his brown coat and bushy, yellow mane and tail. His smiley cutie mark was a great contrast to his grey, stern eyes. He took another step and threw the morning paper onto the cluttered desk. “Just, look at this. I know you’ve been bored lately but I think this case will interest you.”
Shirelock sighed and decided to simply humor his friend and scanned over the article. His light purple coat and his darker purple mane were unwashed and uncombed, but his blue eyes shone with faint curiously, taking in the words. His cutie mark was that of a bee.
The headline nearly seemed to jump off the page. He softly muttered as he read. “Multimillionaire… believed suicide, but evidence, traces of black magic, suggest otherwise.... butler discovered the crimes cene… wife, absolutely devastated, of course… Son gone… Friends shocked... “
Trotson snorted. “The butler did it. The butler always did it.”
Shirelock glared over the edge of the paper. Trotson blinked. “What?”
The detective merely glared. “That is a highly irresponsible remark. Of course the butler didn’t do it.” He studied the picture of the shocked butler. “Too old and unknowing to be able to kill.” He narrowed his eyes and flipped through the pages. He huffed. “It is most likely that the son is the culprit. He’s the only one unaccounted for. It’s the classic scheme: the son gets impatient to inherit the family fortune, so he simply takes the matter in his own hooves.”
This time, Trotson was the one to glare. “That’s the same cliché as the butler scheme.”
Shirelock actually looked offended by that remark, but at that moment, there was a knock at the door. Both stallions looked up. “Inspector Stride,” Holmes remarked.
The gruff, well-build stallion was standing at their door, trying to hide his panting. His blue coat was somewhat clean, but his brown mane was messy. He nodded. “Haymes.” He took deep breath. “We need your help.”
~
Trotson flipped through the report and Shirelock just looked out of the window while they traveled by carriage to the crime scene. “Eye witnesses… the butler was the one to discover the murder…” Trotson said slowly, trying to take in all the details. “Black magic… how it had gotten there, or who even used it, is unknown... “
Strides nodded. “And that’s about it. Asking around only gave us confirmation that the son was there, but none had paid attention where he went.”
Trotson hummed. “There must be some unicorn spell that can show us the answers...”
Strides sighs. “For that, we’d need something of him; like, a hair, or traces of his magic that he had cast or used. And he left neither, only the dark magic, which is not traceable. Plus, he isn’t in our system.”
The carriage had arrived at the millionaire’s mansion. The three stepped out. Many police ponies were surrounding the crime scene, still trying to find any clues.
As the trio walked inside, Strides kept talking. “The son had moved out years ago and had taken all his belongings with him. That was when he went off the grid. Nopony knows why or how.”
Shirelock hummed. “Besides the wife and the son, are there any others?”
Strides nodded. “Well, according to the wife, there’s an old friend - now rival, called Viridian. They grew up together and were best friends as kids, but as Vermillion grew richer, Viridian grew more and more jealous of him. Nowadays, Veridian is in the coin business, distributing bits all over Equestria. He got rich, but still not as rich as Vermillion.”
Shirelock nodded slowly as he took in his surroundings. The murder had happened in the study. The study was quiet, the green carpet muffling every sound. Every wall was completely covered with bookshelves, containing books, scrolls or loose pieces of paper. The only empty spot was the door and the space above. There, a portrait of the late millionaire looked down at them. In the middle of the room was a desk, the chair facing the door. There was only one chair and one lamp. There was nothing on the desk. No windows or other entrances, either.
And, hunched over the desk, on the only chair in the room, was the victim: Vermillion. His appearance was well-kept, even when passed. His bright red mane hang limply over his shoulder, and his light grey jacket colored well with his lighter - nearly pristine white - coat. His eyes were closed. However, he did not seem to be touched or disturbed in any way. It’s like he had just fallen asleep while working.
Shirelock looked further around, his eyes scanning every bit. They lingered on the painting, then scanned the desk. He leaned forward to smell the surface.
Trotson stood up, reading the titles of the books. “There are a lot of titles here I’ve never heard of, but they all look very old, if not rare, and expensive.” He turned around to inspector Strides.
Yet, before he could say anything else, Shirelock cut him off. “Tea.” he murmured softly. “Why does this smell like tea…”
Doctor Trotson frowned. “What do you mean?”
At that moment, the butler came in. The butler looked old, but his eyes were still sparkling as that of a more youthful pony. His expression was a bit haughty.
“Can I be of assistance with anything?”
Shirelock looked up, then back at the table, and then did a double-take. But he didn’t say anything. It was clear he sensed something wasn’t right, but he didn’t say it yet. Stride shook his head. “No, everything -”
Once again, Shirelock cut him off. “Was the desk cleaned recently?” he said, humming.
The butler shook his head. “No, sir. It hasn’t been cleaned since the late master was found.” he replied, emotionlessly, which even Strides found a bit odd.
Shirelock nodded slowly. “Right…” He rubbed his hoof over the surface and smelled. “Hmm…” He stood up and looked at Strides.
“Is the son a unicorn? And Viridian?”
Strides furrowed his brow. “Yes, and yes, I believe.”
He then turned to the butler. “Did Viridian visit here lately?”
The butler shook his head. “Not that I know of… he always seemed to be busy with his coin business.”
Shirelock then turned back to Strides. “Why do you believe the son-”
At that moment, a mare in a police uniform came in. “Sir, there is somepony here for you.”
Strides looked back. “Not now, I’m in the middle of -”
“Sir, it’s important.” the unicorn mare said,. Her lush, red mane fell lightly over her shoulders. Her aqua eyes looked at him sternly, avoiding the body of the stallion at all costs.
“I’m here to investigate the murder of my father.”