The greatest detective is suddenly launched into another world. Dazed and confused, he figures out that he's just in time to solve one of the greatest murder cases in the history of Equestria.
The greatest detective is suddenly launched into another world. Dazed and confused, he figures out that he's just in time to solve one of the greatest murder cases in the history of Equestria.
Go figure.
1) Inspired by RDJ's Sherlock Holmes 2) I've never written a detective story before?? Might as well try.
Inasmuch as it would appear everything were in desirable condition to the commoner, an ulterior and rather grimacing chain of events had occurred, resulting in quite a tragic statistic. Further than what any would presume, it would perhaps become nothing more than a piece of trivia in the future. As far as their capability now, however, it was considerably heinous. A classic Cain and Abel scenario—almost. Give or take a few centuries, it was the first murder to have taken place in this equine-inhabited land, including war fatality of the past. Though, it was likewise the first ever to be committed outside of war.
Far and wide, the victimized family searched for a detective capable of deducing such a mystery, the death of a close family member, a certain Shining Armor, in fact. In charge of the royal guard and relative to the Princess of Friendship. How one could have murdered him, it seemed unfathomable. Unfathomable, of course, to the many great detectives sought out, who proved of no use. In despair, they sought out a stallion who exemplified quite a disparity to the other detectives, one who seemed to appear out of nowhere, one who had fought with monsters by only his deductive ability, one who had shown intelligence greater than the greatest, one who had attracted several women, one who was inherently bound to face Moriarty after death. . .
. . .No, this isn't right, that's not possi—
"HOLMES."
Sherlock let out a sudden gasp as he opened his eyes, clasping his hands around the chair he had blended into so well as he thought Watson had left the room. He looked up with a blink, his frown seeming to become more evident as he quickly rubbed his eyes, dragging his thumb and fingers over his lips to clear away any unsightly appearances from his nap. As his vision adjusted, he saw Watson, his colleague, standing with quite the look of frustration on his face.
"Oh my dear John, certainly you don't miss him that muc—" a woman spoke before stepping in, her look seeming to be the result of a paralyzed face with quite a remarkable tone of white.
"Yes, perhaps I am not at my most presentable," Sherlock grumbled as he looked down at the camouflage attire, "you'll have to pardon me as I did just wake up, and from the strangest dream. . ."
"H-holmes I don't care about the dream!" Watson said in disbelief, "how did you—"
"—One would think that impulses were entirely unnecessary, when, indeed, a complete deduction against one who wishes to completely deduct would be an inherently mistaken course of action," Sherlock answered, "in order to outwit the madman, Professor Moriarty, I had to capture him off of his guard and surprise him with a course of action that could not be so easily deduced. Of course, I presumed many scenarios would have occurred, the most likely of which would have involved Reichenbach, a placement and circumstance which would have not been survivable in the slightest had I not brought with myself an assisting tool by which I could attain the proper amount of oxygen to continue healthy respiration. Of course, Moriarty could have taken me to a number of places as I said, but the most suitable would have been that particular area of the structure, where we could have finished the game."
"The game?" Watson said, staring in utter confusion at the explanation that rolled off of Holmes' tongue as if he had practiced it. Knowing him, he probably practiced it well over a few times in his head.
"Yes, the game. An inherent checkmate, just like chess, and I thought just one step ahead. Perhaps luck or wit, either way, you must be so happy to have me back for the last fifteen minutes of our seeing each other, now I do wish the two of you luck as you leave, I must get back to work."
Holmes stepped up, smiling and walking towards his office, before slamming the door shut. Watson and his newly-wedded wife simply exchanged a look of disbelief.
The circumstances were perfect. Everything was set in motion, like an advanced Rube Goldberg machine, several hundreds of circumstances all in a divine union, coming together at the right moment. Sherlock had sat at his desk, sighing lightly as he continued to draw connections. On his way back from Reichenbach falls, he had encountered a mysterious anomaly. It was most probably the strangest thing he had ever seen. A yellow glow, and some silhouette walking into it as it faded away. Upon further investigation, he found a watch that was seemingly dropped.
This watch was peculiar in structure, as it's contents so far as Sherlock was comfortable with disassembling were not actually within the current periodic table of elements. The watch was constructed of pure, twenty-four karat gold—that much he knew—and it seemed to be made of an elastic material inside. Elastic, but metallic.
"How peculiar," Holmes thought aloud, "of all the strange chemical reactions and elements I have witnessed, this is by far the most unorthodox."
It bound to the wearer with ease, and was extremely comfortable at that. The design on the clock face showed a large pink heart outline on the right side, with three smaller pink hearts on the left side, all at intervals symmetric over the horizontal diametre. The face was constructed of a magenta-colored material, and the watch hands of something purer than gold. It was otherworldly, and Sherlock was sure that he had perhaps found evidence of alien interference, something he knew not to reveal had that been truly possible.
As he was pondering, the door opened slightly. Holmes looked up to see Watson peaking in.
"Holmes, do you have a moment?" he said almost nervously as he still lacked the comprehension of the fact that his once dead friend had suddenly returned to the living with something as little as an oxygen tank.
Holmes looked at his wrist, as if a watch were on it.
"As it turns out I do, one single moment and oh!" Holmes looked up with a smile and a shrug towards Watson, "It seems to have run out, my dearest apologies, if you would like to reschedule for next week I shall see how many moments there are to spare, and, as a note of happenstance, I do not take out-of-country cases."
"Holmes, surely you can't just come back from the dead and expect me to leave without at least hearing more than a rehearsed explanation!" Watson begged, knowing Holmes must have been still upset over the ordeal of his leaving with the wife.
"Well, perhaps I can spare a moment of explanation as to what I found on my way back," Holmes said. Watson shook his head.
"Holmes, you're alive!" Watson exclaimed, holding his hands to his temples before extending them outwards toward his colleague.
"Yes." Holmes said, with a blink and a blank stare, shifting his eyes back and forth as if confused, "I would like to hope so."
"No, agh," Watson sighed, shaking his head and walking up to the desk, "Everyone thought you had died! I. . .we. . ."
"Well, I'm not," Holmes affirmed with a smile, "since that is settled within the obvious, take a look at this."
Knowing he wasn't going to get what he wanted—and at this rate Watson wasn't particularly sure what that was—he sighed, walking around the desk and looking at the strange instrument.
"Take note of the composition, take note of the seemingly extraterrestrial elements," Sherlock said, pointing respectively. "After a while of drawing connections, I concluded that the silhouette which I had seen, one that dropped this, had been linked to a recent theft of a rare and precious material from a nearby bank. It was a material that had been kept a secret from the public, but as you know that was little more than an interesting puzzle for me. The watch appears to be broken, but I have the slightest thought that it might be more than just a watch to tell time. If I can get this clockwork to. . .agh!"
He pushed a gear in with an instrument, and as he did, a loud sound came from the watch as both he and Watson leaned back in awe.
CR-R-RACK
An air-shattering crackle of thunder following a bright flash, causing Sherlock and his colleague to jump as the low rumbling followed after. Rain began to pour down suddenly, and Sherlock was sure the forecast was going to be clear today.
"Perhaps I was wrong about the weather again. . ." he mumbled, "perhaps meteorologists in the future will be more reliable than me." He got up to take a look outside to see, as he had suspected, dark clouds and an unexpected downpour of rain. He sighed, taking a seat again and closing his eyes.
"Were the skies not going to be clear today?" Watson asked, "I could have sworn that was the forecast."
"Now might be a good time to begin thinking about an intricate weather warning system using electromagnetic frequencies," Sherlock said, opening his eyes as he gazed upon the watch. He rubbed his eyes for a moment before hearing a quiet tick. Taking the watch, he looked in disbelief as it had suddenly began to work—at least momentarily. The hands stopped when they all pointed in one direction.
"That's rather curious," Sherlock stared for a moment, leaning the watch towards Watson. It had worked only after the unexpected lightning.
"Indeed, it seems to have gone to a single point and stopped," Watson mused.
Sherlock turned to pace around the room, stopping when he heard the sounds of grinding, tiny clockwork once more.
The hands had changed direction.
With a baffled and genuinely confused expression, Sherlock turned, keeping an eye on the watch, which was turning counterclockwise and clockwise to remain pointed in one direction. He put the watch down, gently massaging his temples as he tried to deduce why this could be happening. With absolutely no evidence towards any claim, he put on some neat attire and took the watch once more.
"What do you see?" Watson asked, as Sherlock was now on the opposite side of the room.
"It seems to be pointing in a specific direction," Sherlock said with a quirked brow, before pointing, "That way."
"How strange!" Watson exclaimed, "It's like a compass, but I'm sure that's not North. How could a watch do such a thing?"
"I surely hope I didn't miss something in my eschatological studies. . ." he murmured to himself, beginning to walk out.
"Watson, where are you going?" Mary, Watson's wife, asked, grabbing his arm as he seemed in a hurry to follow Holmes, "We were just about to leave! We can't miss our trip!"
"I assure you, we'll only be gone momentarily," Watson said, taking her hand and kissing her cheek, "Holmes asked me to. . .accompany him to look at something before I left. It won't take very long."
"Be careful!" Mary called out as Watson was running to catch up to Sherlock. Mary sighed, shaking her head as she watched the two before murmuring to herself, "Holmes, you're so desperate to take him away from me that you'll even come back from the dead!"
"You're a fantastic liar, Watson," Holmes said, keeping focus on the watch as his colleague caught up. Watson let out a disapproving grunt.
"I wasn't lying, I was just. . .making a guess," he replied. Sherlock chuckled, continuing for quite a while until they had finally reached a rather desolate area with a large decrepit statue with a marble base that was at least two meters tall.
"This is it," Sherlock said, taking a look at the statue, "something about this place is drawing the watch hands toward it."
"Right. . ." Watson thought, taking a look at it before placing his hand on it. He jumped back, drawing Holmes' attention.
"Is it cold?" he asked, slightly confused. Watson's expression was almost fearful.
"My hand, it went through the marble!" he exclaimed. Sherlock looked at the watch, before stepping up to the statue and pressing his hand against the marble. Sure enough, it fell through, and Holmes pulled it back again.
"How peculiar!" Sherlock mused, "What ever shall we do, my dear Watson?"
"We should turn back," Watson said, keeping a sternly cautious tone, "and leave it be. This is far out of my, let alone your parameters of—Holmes!"
Before Watson could finish, Holmes had stepped completely inside, vanishing. Watson placed his hands on his head, pulling his hair a bit as he pondered what to do. After a moment of pacing back and forth, and Holmes not coming out, Watson loudly groaned.
"Damnit Holmes!" He shouted, walking in with him.
Canterlot was a rather beautiful city, but it's beauty was only as deep as it's architecture, as, with the loss of the leader of the Royal Guard, it's population shared a grief for the loss of both a citizen and a pillar of their protection. More than any, an alicorn by the name of Twilight Sparkle had mourned this loss, for it was her dear brother.
Beside her sat Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, the wife of the deceased stallion, who was holding up only slightly better than Twilight. The only thing keeping Mi, otherwise known as Cadence, stable, was the need to support her longtime friend, who was completely at loss.
"I don't know what to do Cadence!" Twilight exclaimed, "This has never happened in Equestria, not in hundreds of years, and why my brother?!"
"Calm down Twilight," Cadence said softly, "Celestia has ordered the Royal Guard to find the culprit at all costs, and the detectives—"
"Are doing nothing!" Twilight interrupted with tear-glazed cheeks, Cadence fell silent, allowing the other Princess to vent, "They've found nothing, and the Guards have found nothing, and I'm stuck with a dead sibling with evidently no reason for passing except someones cruel, cold heart!"
Twilight fell into Cadence's embrace, sobbing as Cadence provided as much physical comfort as she could.
"Have faith Twilight," Cadence reassured, "this may be the worst of your trials to come, but you will surely make it through."
Around that time, in another portion of the quarters, Princess Celestia, the leader of the nation, is alerted by a knocking at the door of her Royal Quarters.
"Come in," she said softly. The doors opened to reveal a messenger, who trotted up, bowing quickly.
"Princess, I have urgent news!" he said. Celestia raised her brow attentively, "Two more equines have appeared where we tracked the last mirror portal!"
"Have them brought to me immediately!" Celestia said, the guard raising up and nodding as he trotted out. The doors shut with a loud thundering. Celestia sighed, closing her eyes and lowering her head. "Perhaps the earth has answered my prayer after all. . ."
A bright atmosphere, and a certainly peculiar amount of color pierced the eyes of the companions as they both slowly arose from their landing point. To their bewilderment, it seemed their entire anatomical structure had changed into that of an equine. Holmes, rather fascinated, only gazed at the new form, sitting on his newly-developed hinds. Watson, on the other hand. . .
"Dear heavens!" he cried out in a baffled fear, "I'm a horse! I'm a damned horse!"
"Actually, from what I have observed," Holmes corrected, standing up on all fours, "we've actually manifested as some form of equus ferus caballus, a pony, but with more sophisticated vocal chords and motion. It appears you also have wings."
"Wings?" Watson turned back, noticing his wings for only a brief moment, "I'm naked!"
"I'm sure that doesn't particularly matter here," Holmes stated calmly, "but it would be good to make sure before making any public appearances."
As Holmes began to analyze his environment, Watson continued stumbling on his two hindlegs, tripping and falling constantly. After he was covered in bruises and sore to the bones, he finally managed to calm himself down and stand on all fours.
"You know, I sometimes wonder if ever meeting you was a mistake!" Watson exclaimed, attempting to brush off his fur of dead grass and dry dirt.
"I can't say it'd be any less exciting with the woman you chose," Holmes said under his breath, "just more enjoyable."
Holmes trotted towards a tree, having gotten used to the form rather quickly simply from his memory of equine anatomy. His curiosities were growing almost unbearably, but he kept calm, only analyzing what came immediately to his mind. Taking a leaf from the tree, he analyzed it's appearance. It was most definitely composed of the same biological substances, or nearly identical in form at the very least. There just seemed to be a difference in the workings of visible light radiation.
"Watson, have you taken a moment to observe the trees?" Holmes asked, still looking at the leaf, even tasting it.
"Holmes, I haven't taken a damn moment to do anything but stand up straight!" Watson exclaimed, "Even with all of your smarts, do you not find it a bit startling to have suddenly turned into a horse?"
"Pony."
"Pony—whatever! How can you be so calm?" Watson asked. Holmes sniffed the ground, before turning to Watson.
"If I weren't, I'd look like a blundering idiot," he replied, raising his eyebrows slightly as he returned to his leaf, "simply stick to all four of your legs as you are now, and you will be fine."
Watson sighed, shaking his head and choosing not to spend anymore time regretting his decisions. As he began to walk towards Holmes, he was suddenly interrupted by a spear piercing the ground.
"Eek!" he suddenly exclaimed, looking up at Holmes, who stared at the spear with a look of fascination.
"That kind of weapon is surely out of date to the precision of it's design!" Holmes exclaimed, his fascinated smile fading as he turned to see quite a large militia having assembled in the direction from which the weapon was thrown. Some of them were flying, others had auras around their weapons that seemed to originated from what looked like horns on their heads. Holmes noticed, however, that their organization and attire was far too complex for the creatures to have been mere animals. Surely, it was a kind of sophisticated society.
"Holmes, there's an army of equines that do not look like they are welcoming us," Watson said cautiously, looking at the army before darting his eyes towards his companion. Sherlock looked back.
"Do you think you can put up a fight?" Sherlock asked, before suddenly interrupting Watson's attempt of an answer, "of course not, you can hardly stand of straight. How about running?"
The two nodded at one another, before turning and running as fast as they could into the woods. It wasn't for too long, however, as the horned guards teleported directly in front of them before knocking them flat on their faces and binding them in some kind of presumably magic spell.
"Watson, this is remarkable! They're capable of using powers similar to magic!" Holmes exclaimed, before a hoof was placed on his face.
"Silence!" the equine soldier shouted, "by the orders of Princess Celestia, we're putting you under arrest for the murder of Shining Armor."
"Wait, I remember that name, Shini—" Holmes said before his face was met again with a harsh stomp, rendering him unconscious.
I've waited so long for you, who would have known that I would have met you in such a strange planet of mythological creatures? I suppose it truly takes a creature of myth to face me. I'm excited for us to meet, Sherlock Holmes, though I did not expect the magic of this world to interfere with yours so much that it got into your head. We shall meet soon, and I am sure that you will figure out this dream communication as well. Good luck, Holmes. I eagerly await your presence.
"Holmes!"
The detective woke up from his strange dream, remembering only bits and pieces as he turned to Watson. He was quick to pick up the ungodly stench of mold and fungus, the extremely low temperatures, and torch-lit stone-brick hallways in front of a small room with rusted metal bars.
"Ah, a prison," Holmes said. Watson shook his head, unamused.
"Of course it's a prison Holmes," Watson said, "they've kept us in here for nearly an hour now!"
"It felt merely as minutes to me," Holmes retorted.
"To you!" Watson snapped back, "sleeping like a restless child rolling over and mumbling things about 'creature's of myth' and some gibberish!"
"Yes, creatures of myth!" Holmes said quickly, grabbing a rock and starting to scratch notes on the wall, "something was communicating with me through the dream. I would coin it to overreactive neurological responses, but it seemed far too coherent."
Watson gave up trying to lecture his colleague before looking at what Holmes was writing down.
"I remember it vividly now, whichever culprit they were looking for is using magic to communicate with me, which is why I had such an odd dream in the first place." He drew a circle labelled 'residence', with a line that pointed to the word 'dream'.
"This was after I had taken this watch," He showed the watch, "yet before I had fixed it. After fixing it, the weather patterns had changed, which is the moment when the two of us noted it's odd functionality and behavior. Largely composed of gold as a structure, the watch was made of a different kind of material, and definitely was radiating something that is absent in our home world."
He drew more diagrams, pointing to the watch and some notes, before drawing another circle labelled 'portal'. "It pointed to this area, where there was presumably a portal of some kind to this land. This was where I saw the other creature, and where I found this watch. Therefore, they are inevitably linked by circumstantial probability."
Holmes circled all of them, then drew another line and a very cartoonish tree. "This is where we landed, the guards came to us shortly which leads me to believe two things. One, they have sophisticated 'magic' technology, we will say," Holmes wrote down the word 'magic' next to a sword labelled 'army'. "Two, that magic is sophisticated enough to have detected us, but not the culprit in time. Which leads me to believe perhaps one, or both of these circumstances are true: Firstly, that we are not magically-inclined enough, for obvious reasons, to counter this magic ability whereas the culprit is; secondly, that the culprit came through this place prior to us, which means the army was already on the way to investigate. Either way, I believe that with his attempts of communication, the culprit is well capable of sophisticated magic, thereby outsmarting the military forces, and their leaders, who I presume we shall meet soon if we are not being executed."
"Way to end on a bright note. . ." Watson sighed, before a loud slam of a large, wooden door was heard. Two guards walked up to the cell, noting the diagrams on the wall.
"This is definitely the one, let's try not to give them anymore wounds," the guard said, "the Princess will be irritated enough that they're bruised up as they are already."
"Not our fault, they came in like this," the other one muttered, opening the cell, "come with us."
Holmes and his colleague exchanged looks, before getting up and walking towards the guards with caution. As no threats were perceived on either side, the four peacefully made their way to another area.
From odorous, cold hallways to elaborate marble walls and quartz-lain floors, they traversed a stunningly beautiful castle, filled with many chandeliers of unexplainable light, many jewel-studded suits of armor, and several perfectly-fashioned weapons mounted on the walls. All of this was simply remarkable to Holmes, who took in every sight he possibly could as they continued through the structure. Within time, they had walked over large bridges and arches stretching between towering structures across a vast, mountain-hung city filled with some of the richest and most peculiar architectures that the two colleagues had ever seen.
"Apologies for the. . .ill treatment," one of the guard said to the two, "the Squadron General didn't particularly get the memo on that fact that we were not fetching the culprit."
"Ah, we've been through worse," Watson said, attempting to be polite.
"How do you know we are not the culprits?" Holmes suddenly asked. Watson turned with a confused and wide-eyed expression that almost screamed at Holmes before the guard answered.
"We had detected the usage of portals connecting to the outside of our world prior to your arrival," the guard answered, "we were on our way at the time but it seems we didn't get the first reading until right before you arrived."
"Ah, so I was correct," Holmes replied, "then the culprit you are looking for is surely sophisticated in his magic and knows enough about the reaches of this military's sciences enough to avoid them. In which case, I'd suggest trying a less orthodox method for detection. Many sophisticated criminals forget older forensics methods when averting their capture in a crime."
"So far, you've gotten further than any of our detectives," the guard replied.
"I find no surprise in that," Holmes said with a blank stare.
As they began to approach a set of doors, a pair of large and heavily-armored guards stepped in front. It was quite obviously the royal quarters, decorated with a large emblem of what looked like the sun, and studded with what looked like solid steel with sturdy metal framing. The escorting guards nodded to Holmes and Watson, before stepping backwards, turning, and trotting away. The two larger guards observed the colleagues, lighting their horns momentarily before nodding, and opening the doors inwardly. Inside were two large figures, bearing both massive horns and wings. One, dark, like the night, with the symbol of a moon on her hind. The other, much taller, and white, with the symbol of a sun.
"This is a rather interesting development," Holmes muttered, walking in cautiously beside Watson, "your highness, and your highness, apologies for our most probably inappropriate manners; as you may know, we are foreign to this land and would surely attend our ears to your correctional instruction on the matter."
"No need," the white one said with a smile, "your understanding is greater than any foreigner we have faced in this room prior, and we have faced many as of recent."
Sherlock nodded with a smile, looking over to Watson, who was visibly clueless.
"Come now Watson, treat them as you would an authority in our own world at the very least," Holmes said with a rather condescending tone. Watson grunted at him.
"We understand your troubles," the darker one said, "do not feel discomfort at our presence, we wish not to impose upon you any form of needless mannerisms, as there is a situation much more dire at hoof."
"Ah, so I have heard," Holmes said, "perhaps we should introduce ourselves, I am Detective Sherlock Holmes, this is my companion Doctor John Watson."
"A-ah, yes, nice to meet you," Watson said with a shaky voice and forced smile.
"You as well," the white one said, "my name is Princess Celestia, this is my sister, Princess Luna. We understand that in your land, the highest authority might be that of Queen, but in Equestria, it is Princess."
"For sake of clearing confusion, there are currently four princesses," Luna continued, "Celestia, of the sun; myself, of the moon; Mi Amore Cadenza, of love; and Twilight Sparkle, of friendship. The latter two princesses have been the most affected victims of the murder you must have heard about by now."
"Yes, and your culprit entered in through the same way that we have," Holmes said, "he's also attempted to communicate to me via dream. I figured that would be impossible, but it appears that such things are possible in this world. I have much to learn."
"This criminal is far more than we anticipated," Luna said, "he's able to access dreams that I cannot, able to block off alicorn magic, and. . .what is that on your foreleg?"
"Oh, this?" Holmes asked, holding up the watch from earlier, "I was going to ask you the same thing. It seems to have elements of origin that are not of my world. It led me and my colleague to this place."
"Sister, this is surely the one Zecora spoke of," Luna said, turning to Celestia, whose eyes were widened.
"Give him everything our former detectives have found," she said, "immediately."
"Well then, Watson," Sherlock said with a smile, "It seems we have a case on our. . .hooves."
Sherlock was quite excited about the developing situation. Never before had his mind been so pressured to solve a case, and in such unforeseen circumstances! Hardly anything was familiar in this new world, yet there was just enough to build upon. It was as if he was starting over, but with all of the knowledge of his past in a much more complex world. As they traversed the corridors to other parts of the castle, Holmes busied himself ponderously among the presence of magic. What was the extent of it? How much was there to learn about this world? How was the culprit capable of subverting such powerful abilities?
This led him into further questions, such as how many alternate worlds there really were—and how many were as bizarre as this one. Watson, however, was more focused on admiring the alien geometries constructed with such awe-inducing eloquence that it was beyond his comprehension as to how such things could even be made.
Within moments, however, they had reached a room filled with other well-dressed equines who seemed dead silent, some even on the brink of sleeping until the loud sound of creaking castle doors awoke them from their lackadaisical slumber.
"These are the other detectives, Mr. Holmes," the guard escorting them said, "they shall provide you all of the relevant information."
"Ah, good, a bit more of a starting point," Holmes said with a fabricated smile, "more or less an apprehension."
As Holmes and his companion walked in, the guard left the room. With a loud metallic sound, the door latched, and the other detectives exchanged looks to one another before one spoke up.
"Who are you then?" one asked, a dirty Canterlot accent, one that Sherlock would have recognized as British, dominated his tonality.
"Are you deaf?" Sherlock asked calmly. The stallion recoiled in disgust.
"Am I what?" he asked with an offended tone.
"I figured so," Sherlock replied, before turning his attention to the rest of the detectives, "just in case any of you missed that, my name is Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. I am sure you have all put your full effort into this case, and I am sure your superiors are grateful for it. However, as it appears, you have gotten no where."
"Gotten no where, listen to this fool!" one shouted with a more posh accent, "We've gotten a lot of places!"
"You are welcome to prove me incorrect," Holmes said with a smile. At the lack of motion, he nodded, before approaching a chalkboard. He drew the same diagram, as if from memory, from when he was in the cell. After briefly explaining it, he continued on to his theories, "in conclusion, our culprit is far more advanced than the "Equestrian Sciences" currently understand. Which means, a usage of elder forensic methodology should be equipped for the finding of this criminal. Maintenance of the surveying portion of the military is of utmost regard, as we want all pertinent information on the culprit's whereabouts, as well as any possible agents of the aforementioned. I trust there is at least some data collected by you of those who are not responsible among the population."
There was a period of silence, as Sherlock sighed, turning to the inspector.
"You are in charge of this case, no?" Holmes asked, before the inspector scoffed.
"Yeah, what of it?" he asked, his accent less derivative of the English-sounding Canterlot, but moreso of the American-sounding Manhattan. Holmes noted this before continuing.
"Have your men organize the data I have given to them, along with what little they may have found," Holmes instructed, "I shall be back after speaking with our first suspects."
"And. . .who are those suspects?" the posh detective asked. Holmes shook his head.
"The first suspects in any murder case, posh pony," Holmes said, "the immediate family."
"How could you suspect the immediate family? That's preposterous!" another detective exclaimed in disagreement.
"Twenty-one point five percent of murders are committed by spouse or relative," Holmes explained, "another forty-five point two percent are committed by friends and acquaintances. Narrowing down the large numbers pertinent to easy-to-find suspects is the first step before continuing on to the greater disparity of murders committed by strangers. This statistical data exists in my world, I would assume it is likened to yours given we have little disparity in conscious capability."
There was nothing left to say from the detectives after Holmes' explanation. Though many felt seething rage towards him out of jealously and belittlement, they knew that he was irrefutably correct and chose to hold their tongues. Holmes left the belligerent lot with Watson, traveling on to the current residence of Twilight Sparkle, which was a specialized hotel for royalty within Canterlot.
Twilight sat quietly with Cadence at her side. While she was not crying, her mood had gotten no better. It was true, of course, that the sudden onset of grievous emotions had subsided, but what was left was far more than just the amplifier of horror. Confusion. Such confusion over what might drive an equine to do such a thing. It was quite apparent, despite her preconceptions, that such a thing could have a motive behind it, but the more she thought about the reasoning of the culprit, the more times she pictured what such a terrifying murder must have been like, and to see her brother suffer over and over again in her head was far too much. Had it not been for that emotional distress, she might have been able to develop a greater case than the many detectives combined.
A knocking sounded at the door, Twilight lifted her head, able to hold back any possible tears from the aforementioned thought and get up to answer. As she opened the door, Holmes and his companion stood in patience, smiling as Twilight held the door open with her hoof.
"Ah, hello!" Twilight said nervously, quickly studying the both of them before giving a cautious chuckle and stepping aside, "come on in, whoever you are."
"Why allow us in if you do not know us?" Watson asked with curiosity, having been under the preconception that Twilight was anticipating their arrival. Upon pondering the fact that she didn't, he turned to Holmes with a disappointed glare.
"Princess of Friendship," Holmes said, "I figured she wouldn't mind us stopping by."
"Well, who are you, then?" Cadence asked. Holmes smiled as he turned to face her.
"A passer-by, you might say," he pointed out, "but you may call me Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective."
"You're joking," Twilight said with lowered ears and a genuinely disappointed face, before being tossed a paper with a seal.
"No, I'm not," Holmes said blatantly, as if he had not detected her emotional response at all, "this is my proof. The seal of Princess Celestia, displayed upon the hardened wax of Canterlot Castle, a letter validifying my identity to the detectives following this case. I believe it will be of a considerable authenticity."
Twilight was in a state of shock. She had read stories of the man in fiction, but never did she think that Holmes himself would somehow manifest into her reality to solve the greatest case known to Equestria. It surely could not have been real; it was certainly unbelievable. Despite this, the credentials were sufficient, there was no way it could have been faked.
"I must be. . .I must be dreaming!" Twilight said, looking up at Holmes as she sat on the floor with her wings outstretched and low, "Sherlock Holmes, a fictional character, and you're real! You're helping solve my brother's murder! This is. . .this is extraordinary! This—it's phenomenal! I will help you with anything you need, tell me what you are here for and I will do everything in my power to assist you!"
While slightly taken aback by the interesting notion of himself as a fictitious entity among equine literature, Holmes maintained his appearance and simply smiled.
"You are the first suspects of our case," he said. Twilight's ears dropped with an expression of confusion. Before Twilight could make even a single utterance, Cadence, silently adhering to the conversation prior, stepped forward to adjudicate the scenario in her own eyes, feeling grossly offended at what she believed was an accusation.
"Nonsense!" Cadence shouted sternly, "It is absolutely unacceptable to accuse—"
"Ah no no," Sherlock said, interrupting the great royal creature with not even a batted eye, "I said suspect. I have made no decisions on a perpetrator, but following statistical data, I must use unrelenting objective reasoning in who I approach and how I approach them. Therefore, I shall observe the family members first and take into account what information there is, before using that information in my deduction. Do not jump to conclusions about accusations, by the way, they make you more suspicious."
Cadence went to speak once more, before Twilight held up her hoof.
"He's right, Cadence," she said, maintaining a straight face and getting up, "We know Shining the best, so we would be the first suspects by that very nature. It's nothing we should take personally."
"Wonderful, ah, would it be acceptable that my colleague and I take a seat to discuss a few matters?" Sherlock asked politely, smiling with admiration of Twilight's considerably professional composure. Twilight turned to him, looking at Watson before lighting her horn and bringing up a few chairs.
"Of course, please, ask what you may," Twilight said, sitting down as well, "I shall answer you to the best of my ability."
"Alright then," Sherlock said, taking a seat while Watson spent a silly amount of time figuring out exactly how to sit. Holmes removed the watch from his wrist—or whatever he might call it—displaying it to Twilight, who looked on with an astounding curiosity. "What would you surmise of this watch's origin upon first glance?"
"From first glance. . ." Twilight said, looking at the now-motionless watch and its strange designs, "It's not nine o'clock, which would indicate that it's broken, but the materials it's made from are far too eloquent to be solely indicative of just some 'old watch'. It's constructed from pure gold, but the interior is fuming with magic. . .and there's something else. . ."
"Crystal." Cadence said, looking over Twilight's shoulder, "the hearts are made with materials from the Crystal Empire, they act as vessels for containing powerful magic, but the magic inside of it isn't from the Crystal Empire."
"Come to think of it," Twilight pondered aloud, "that gold seems to be from Saddle Arabia."
She used her horn to lift the the watch from Sherlock's hoof, bringing it over to a small desk with a few rudimentary study materials. She used her magic to safely disassemble the watch without taking apart it's functional pieces, examining everything that she could and talking as she made her discoveries. Holmes listened closely, as he and Watson approached the desk for a better look.
"The gold here was surely from Saddle Arabia, the hearts from the Crystal Empire with old arcane magic—undetectable by modern unicorn magic. That means that our perpetrator, or at least the manufacturer of this watch, wasn't a unicorn. They used something more akin to Zecora's practice. Come to think of it, Zecora is the only one who could have received these kind of materials! But she couldn't have forged them. . .surely. . ."
"Zecora," Watson repeated to himself, "the elder princess mentioned that name."
"She said one would come," Cadence explained, "by stary portal, from far and wide. . ."
"Our saving grace, restores our pride," Twilight finished, "she spoke of you, Sherlock. Now, you've brought this, and I know she's the only one who could understand it. How did you come across it?"
Holmes smiled, admiring Twilight's ability for a moment before beginning to explain his current deductions.
"Dropped onto the ground with a loosened latch," Holmes remarked, feeling nearly excited by the opportunity to speak to someone who appeared to be on his level, "presumably by our perpetrator, who stole something from our world. A very rare and precious material, perhaps something that wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, if it drew the attention of an extrauniversal creature. I caught only but a glimpse of their silhouette, humanoid in my world but surely not here. They dropped this upon seeing me, but based on what they spoke in that dream, it might have been intentional. This means they must have known me as well, and I'm not sure how."
"Which means this isn't their first endeavor," Twilight concluded, "they've been through the portal several times, so if we can trace back mirror usage, we could more than likely find clues leading to the culprit! Surely they weren't always meticulous."
"A genius ideation," Holmes pointed out with a wholesome smile, "how relieving to hear such wondrous thinking from a creature that isn't myself."
"There you go again, Holmes," Watson muttered under his breath, "egomaniac."
"Ah, thank you," Twilight said with a nervous laugh, "I was beginning to believe I was too emotionally-involved to partake in the case."
"Quite the contrary!" Holmes exclaimed, "you have a remarkable skill—in fact, you may be the key to solving this case!"
Twilight smiled brightly. It was nice to be reassured that there was something she could do about her brother's murder, even if it wasn't to prevent it in the first place. Cadence, however, felt cautious around the strange detective, thinking he had ill intention. She stepped closer to Holmes, flaring out her wings and looking down on him.
"You may have convinced the princesses, but you have not convinced me," she said sternly. Watson felt uneasy, but pretended to exhibit no sense of fear—with substantial failure, of course. Holmes only smiled and looked up as he patiently awaited the Princess' outburst. "Tell me why I should trust you, a stranger, to solve the case of my husband's death. Why should I not believe you are the murderer?"
"Cadence!" Twilight said suddenly, holding her hoof out, "that's enough! Sherlock has come much further than any of our other detectives, and I have an opportunity to do something other than. . .than sulk around and cry all over myself!"
"But you could be hurt! They could be lying!" Cadence pleaded, before Twilight interrupted her again.
"Cadence, tell me," she said sorrowfully, with tears in her eyes, "what else do we have to lose?"
Cadence paused for a moment, considering heavily what Twilight had said. There was plenty to lose, but among those was justice. She would be taking a chance, quite definitely, but to see her husbands murderer executed for the absolute atrocity committed then, and perhaps more monstrous acts undiscovered, there was nothing she wanted more. Twilight was a princess, she could take care of herself, and as much as Cadence was unwilling to admit it, Twilight's relationship was far closer to Shining than her own. She lowered her head, before darting an eye to Sherlock.
"If she is hurt, I won't hesitate to kill you myself," she said, with a grim tone that even Twilight had never known. Twilight began to comment, before Holmes quickly spoke.
"And I would urge you to do so," he said, "for the protection of one's family, and one's beloved, is by far the most important thing any soul can live for. I assure you, it is in my interest to solve this case and to deliver the proper sentence to the criminal we face, together. You may not be of my world, but the pain endured here by the many is just the same—the blood spilled. . .of an identical coloration. So, for sake of brevity, I urge also that we quarrel not with each other, but focus on the facts at hand and what they might offer for us going forth."
"Well-spoken, Holmes," Watson said, patting Holmes' back uncomfortably with his hoof, "now, before you get too full of yourself, we may want to go ahead and make some progress."
"Right you are, Watson!" Holmes said, "let us be off!"
"Thank you again for bringing me on this journey," Twilight said. The three of them—herself, Sherlock, and Watson—were walking towards the Everfree Forest. It was a dark and treacherous place from what little Holmes had heard, but likewise the residence of the aforementioned Zecora who was rather intrinsic to their investigation. Holmes figured it important that they endeavor to understand the device first, being as it was inexplicably linked to the culprit by some extraordinary means. The device still fascinated him, as it behaved somewhat like a compass. It did move as they walked, but he chose for the time to remain ignorant of it's direction for sake of first interpreting it's behavior. Holmes held true to himself the fact that none should follow what they don't understand, lest they be guided with ill intention.
"It is sincerely my pleasure to have you along for the ride, per se," Holmes said with a smile, "after all, I was thinking it would be in our best interest to have one of the native citizens accompany us along the way regardless."
The walk was long, and Holmes didn't much care for the silence. He observed his surroundings, looking at the architecture of the buildings in Ponyville and likewise taking into account the citizens surrounding—many of which offered glares and stares of concern and almost tumultuous curiosity. Their fascination gleamed like comets within the sky, as rumor spread quickly of the famed myth's presence. Fortunately, however, many were too shy or unsure to approach the trio on their disembarkation, as in walking they looked rather busy. Holmes turned to Twilight.
"I suppose it is good to have a preliminary understanding of your magic, as you call it," he pointed out. Twilight turned with a look of interest and near excitement as he continued, "how does such magnificent power work?"
"Well, the history of magic is long and complicated," Twilight began, "and there are many different kinds of magic attuned to different purposes, creatures, and capabilities. There are many forms of illegal magic, and many more forms of rudimentary magic."
"Such a thing being referred to as 'rudimentary' baffles my mind greatly," Holmes admitted. Twilight couldn't hold back a giddy squee before continuing her explanation.
"Well, to start, all three of the equine races have magic within their bodies," she explained, "earth ponies have magic that enhances their endurance and strength—you'll never see a pegasus trying to beat them in a hoof-wrestle. Pegasi, of course, have magic that allows them both to fly and walk on clouds."
"That does make more sense, oddly," Watson chimed in, "I don't know much about aerodynamism, but these wings I have don't seem to be innately capable of flight purely by motor coordination."
"That's absolutely correct," Twilight said with a gleeful smile, "the pegasus channels magic through their wings to fly, through their hooves to step on clouds, and through both to manipulate weather for the rest of us."
"I see you've saved the most interesting for last," Sherlock pointed out. Twilight offered a giggle.
"The unicorns, yes," she continued, "our magic is the most direct and most variable. Our horns safely channel raw magical energy, directing it towards a purpose and means by our intent. Whether casting long-winded spells, creating a variety of potions with fewer ingredients, activating sigils and alchemical circles, or what have you, the unicorn's horn is the all-purpose tool of magic both general and archaic."
"There in lies the question," Holmes said, pausing to face her directly, "what are you, being all three?"
Twilight paused as well, Watson taking a moment longer to realize they had stopped.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "of course, the alicorn. Goddesses of Equestria."
"Goddesses?" Watson asked, "what madness is this?"
"Not madness, dear Watson," Holmes retorted, "difference. In a land where magic is rudimentary, is it so odd to say that deities walk among their people?"
"I suppose you're right," Watson said, scratching his head a bit, "a lot to get used to at one time."
The three continued walking as Twilight began to explain Equestrian history a brief yet detailed manner, a manner by which Holmes was able to pick up on exactly the context he required to contextualize his theories. It wasn't much longer that the trio left the borders of Ponyville and happened upon the entrance to the Everfree forest. As expected, it was as a mark of certain doom, providing a foreboding aura of caution to all who thought to enter. Yet, having known the lands well, the Princess escorted them through without hesitation.
Strange sounds emanated from within the darkness of the forest. A snapping of twigs from the shadows, the rustling of leaves from unknown wind, the sounds of creatures unseen. It was enough to strike fear into Watson, who remained close to the princess and detective in hopes that nothing awful would happen. Sherlock, however, was more fascinated with how the forest seemed to change as they continued—moreso with Twilight's confident navigation of it. Before he could endeavor to observe the surroundings much further, however, he caught a particularly foul odor.
"What a rancid smell," Watson complained, turning to Sherlock as the detective chuckled in response.
"It is to be expected in woods," Sherlock said, "perhaps a dying animal, or—"
"A living one," Twilight interrupted, signaling them to stop. A loud howl was heard after, as the thumping of heavy footsteps shook the ground beneath them.
"That doesn't sound particularly pleasant," Sherlock pointed out. Watson shot him a glare.
"Wonderful that you should point out the obvious, Holmes!" Watson said in a frustrated whisper before Twilight gave a shhh.
The three waited as the stomping grew dreadfully close. The sound rang from every direction, yet it was distinctly from one source. It was apparent at this moment that the forest seemed to play tricks on those within, yet this was surely less trick than danger. The three of them stood on guard as the thumping stopped, seeing no sign of any antagonizing creatures. Holmes sniffed the air once more, as the foul odor had become far more intense. From wherever it's source, it was assuredly the creature they heard creating it.
Holmes closed his eyes, perking up an ear as he heard a twig snapping. In that moment, as if time had stopped, he pictured what might happen next. A large creature, jumping from the right—nay from the left. It would go for the princess, she was the most powerful among them. It howled, so it is likely similar to a creature with canine features. It's tracking of them suggested that it was on the hunt for food. It would have to determine which of them were most threatening, as well as which were most likely to escape. It's pause indicated that it was preparing for it's attack, and that it was going to be quick. Dodging it one time would not be enough, it would attempt to attack once more immediately after as it lost it's advantage of stealth. Of course, Sherlock would likewise have lost his advantage of defensive proximity. From that point, he would have to figure out what exactly the creature was in order to deal with it. All he knew was that it was large and hungry. There was a rock on the ground, sizable enough to at least distract a creature of such size, and he knew the rock was close enough to get to upon the first dodge.
Holmes opened his eyes, staring at the space in front of him as he kicked Watson back and pulled the Princess forward. Before the two could respond, they witnessed the large creature soaring over them in a lunge before running into a tree. Sherlock knocked the rock loose before turning to see a large wolf made of twigs and leaves with a glow within it's eyes that was certainly magical. As the animal opened it's jaws towards a terrified Watson, Sherlock managed to pick up the rock and hurl it towards the creature's face, earning it's attention rather quickly as it prepared to lunge for him.
"That's as far as I thought ahead, we should probably run," he quickly suggested as the creature jumped for him, "go!"
He pushed Twilight out of the way again before jumping forward at the lunging predator and stepping on it's face. His balance wasn't at it's best, but as he slipped down the side of the large wolf he managed to stick his landing beside Watson. The creature gave a snarl as it turned to them once more.
"Watson, now might be a lovely time to learn flight," Sherlock said as the creature made it's way closer to them.
"Flight?!" Watson shouted, "I'm still adjusting to walking!"
A bolt of magic suddenly pierced the creatures head, causing it to explode as the body fell upon the ground. Sherlock and Watson exchanged looks as they turned to see Twilight's horn steaming.
"I'm quite the bookworm, but I've fought bigger," Twilight pointed out, "now come on! It won't stay down for long."
Sherlock was confused for a moment before turning to see the twigs slowly twirling upon the ground back to the creature's neck. He and Watson gave a nod to one another as they began to run. While they were not as fast, the time which it took for the wolf's head to reform was more than enough for them to get out of sight. After several more moments, it gave another loud howl as the stomping seemed to grow quieter.
"Is there anything else out to kill us that we should know about, your highness?" Watson asked with a tone of frustration. Twilight turned back to him with a sigh.
"I was hoping we wouldn't need a crash course on the most dangerous place in Equestria before entering," she admitted, "just don't step on the blue flowers."
Watson attempted to protest before Holmes shot him a look. The doctor gave a groan as they continued to travel the forest, seeing in the distance a dim light. Soon, it became several lights, and a visible residence that seemed rather full of magical trinkets that appeared more familiar to the practice of voodoo to Holmes and Watson. Twilight began to walk faster as she approached the door, giving a gentle knock.
"Man, man, and equine, at my abode," a voice spoke from behind the door as it slowly opened, "after having walked a treacherous road."
In front of them now was a Zebra. No doubt, it was Zecora, and as expected she was heavily adorned for her craft. Holmes found it rather interesting that other equine species were just as capable of speech and sapience. Fascinated to learn more, he smiled as he greeted her.
"You must be Zecora," Holmes said. Zecora looked him up and down, before turning to do the same with Watson.
"Creatures from far away, please, do enjoy your stay," she replied with a smile as she motioned for them to enter. Sherlock and Twilight stepped in while Watson cautiously followed, "tell me, one of intellect, why me, do you select?"
"The unheeded wise results endless demise and continued rise of darkened skies," Holmes replied, "where ignorance beholds those truths untold salvation unfolds to young and old." Holmes held up the watch, handing it to Zecora before he continued, "The watch you see has baffled me, as in my land things this grand form not by hand. Made from crystal and gold, be it young or old? It tells not the hour, but shows the way, does it lead to devour or wish us to stay?"
