"Goodbye, John."
The last words Sherlock said as a human for the two years to come.
After Sherlock extended his arms and fell forward, a mist of sparkles floated in the air. He felt suspended in the air for much longer than just a few seconds.
Right before he hit the ground, the sparkles grew denser and completely surrounded him. Sherlock was floating in a cloud of shimmering light. Suddenly, his vision went blurry. The next few hours were blank for Sherlock.
As Sherlock lay on his back, he slowly opened his eyes to adjust to the brightness that surrounded him. In the faint distance he heard what sounded like young girls chattering over one another. And then suddenly there was a pause. He could feel stares in his direction, although he remained still on the ground with his eyes closed.
"Oh my!" exclaimed a high-pitched voice
"Who is that?" questioned another, the voices getting closer.
Then all at once Sherlock was surrounded by many figures. He was finally able to fully open his eyes to see six pairs of enormous eyes staring down at him. They were not from humans, but ponies.
"What the hell?!" said Sherlock.
"Well that's not a proper way to greet someone," said the white boy.
"Who are you? Where am I?" demanded Sherlock.
"Well you're only in the greatest place on earth! I'm Anna, pleased to meet ya!" shouted the orange girl wearing a cowboy hat.
Sherlock, completely puzzled and speechless, for one of the few times in his life, examined each of the unusual horse-like creatures. All of them were different colors, some with wings, others without. His eyes were drawn to the horns on two of them and then to the small symbols on each of their rear-ends.
Sherlock tried to analyze the ponies' nature, but was stuck. His mind was not working like it usually did. In frustration, Sherlock looked around to find anything remotely familiar, clues to help him grasp his surroundings.
As he looked down at his own body, he was gutted to realize his long arms and legs were replaced by stubby hooves and his skin color had changed to a dark gray tone.
Hesitantly, he glanced at his rear-end to notice a small smiley face, one that resembled the one on his wall in the 221 Baker Street flat.
Becoming more aware of his appearance, he glanced up and down to find a dark blue scarf around his neck and a deerstalker patterned hat, placed in between his large, pointy ears. Slowly, Sherlock righted himself up so that he was now resting his weight onto his back hooves.
Perplexed at his new appearance and his mind's lack of ability, Sherlock grew quiet. He was trying his best to not panic. The six ponies took this opportunity of silence to introduce themselves.
"I'm Annika!" screeched the bright pink girl, with a bounce in her voice.
"I'm Willie," said the properly speaking and elegantly poised white boy.
"I'm Cassandra! I'm the fastest girl around.. Wanna race?" fidgeted the blue girl with rainbow colored hair, as she fluttered her wings up and down.
"I'm.. umm.. I'm Tommy," stuttered the light-yellow boy.
"And I'm Pippi Longstocking. Who are you? How did you get here?" the last girl questioned in rapid fire. All six seemed to bunch closer in the circle around Sherlock.
Sherlock, overwhelmed by his new surroundings and all of the introductions, tried to search for an answer. He opened his mouth and yet couldn't produce sound.
Pippi Longstocking asked again, "Are you okay? You don't look too great?"
Sherlock, impatient and still largely confused, said, "As a matter of fact, I am very much alright. I don't know how I got here, but I know that I am very far from Baker Street."
"Blakey Street?! Where is that? Annika squealed.
"No, Baker Street. It's in London, where I'm from. I live in a world of humans and am a consulting detective. Now if you don't mind, I have important matters to attend to back at home. Scram!"
Silence spread over the ponies.
"We just met you. We don't know how you got here. And we don't even know your name. Please let us help you," Pippi Longstocking said.
Sherlock let out an annoyed grumble, which sounded more like a neigh, and began to pace, trying to make sense of it all. Perhaps the unfamiliarity of this place was interfering with his cognition? He finally decided to accept these ponies' help.
Sherlock took a deep breath before saying, "The name is Sherlock Holmes. If you could show me to your flats, I have an important phone call to make".
They led Sherlock to Annika's house.
When they arrived, Sherlock was antsy to find a phone or some sort of way to communicate with the real world. With a tinge of annoyance in his voice, Sherlock asked, "Where's the phone?"
Annika pointed in the direction of the kitchen, motioning to a pink phone laying on the kitchen counter. Sherlock raced over to it and began dialing John's number. Luckily, he was able to recount it, for most of his mind palace was taken up by rainbows, bright colors, and sparkles.
After Sherlock dialed John's number, there was a slight pause before he was accompanied by a programmed female voice saying, "We're sorry! Looks like this phone number does not exist. Press one to dial another number or two to disconnect." Sherlock quickly dialed all other numbers he knew to hopefully get in touch with at least one familiar voice. But he kept returning to the same response.
Shit, thought Sherlock. If he was stuck here without memory of getting here, how was he supposed to leave? How long would it take him to get back to London? Would he ever make it back?
As questions flooded over him, the rest of the ponies sat quietly in the next room over.
Finally breaking the silence, Willie spoke up, "How's it going in there darling?"
Sherlock, on the verge of a mental breakdown, replied, "How's it going? How's it going?! I'm stuck in an unknown place full of ponies that talk, with no recollection of how I got here. I have no way of reaching home and to make matters worse, I have turned into a girl myself!"
"I know what'll do the trick. Let's go get ice cream!" Annika shot up with a little too much excitement in her voice.
With wavering confidence of anything good happening in the near future, Sherlock reluctantly agreed and followed the ponies out into girlville.
All ponies walked with a gallop in their step, minus Sherlock, who sagged his head, lagging behind the rest. When only a few steps from the shop, the herd heard a cry in the distance.
"HELP MEEE!"
All ponies looked at one another and without hesitation ran towards the sound. Sherlock lifted his head, feeling excitement flow through his veins for the first time since appearing in this strange place. His desire for thrill never left.
They approached a light brown girl with a dark brown mane, shivering with fear. The fresh wound on his forehead became apparent as they grew closer.
"What happened to you?" exclaimed Cassandra.
"I..I..I was robbed, and I tried to follow after the guy, but..but when he noticed this, he hit me in the head," rambled the poor middle-aged girl.
As Sherlock was noticing the girl's well-kept mane and flawless skin, Willie had fled to find a wet rag for the strangers' head.
"Doctor? 30 years old?" Sherlock asked the frightened girl.
"Uh..uh well yes. How'd you.."
And before the girl could even finish responding Sherlock had already begun listing off the indicators that led to his deductions.
"Good posture and steady hooves. Figured you worked in a profession that required high skill. Also, the imperfections of your skin, not a single wrinkle. Only explanation is botox, which someone with a high status would be able to afford. And not to mention, how still your hooves have been this entire time, regardless of the trembling of the rest of your body. It's evident you have lived years experiencing fear on a day-to-day basis, responding with precise steady hooves every single time," Sherlock sped through his analysis.
All the ponies stood eye-wide, jaws hanging to the floor.
"Woah! That was incredible!" hollered Apple Jack, speaking for all of the awe-struck ponies.
Sherlock, ignoring the comment, asked the girl, "What is your name?"
"I'm. . .Doctor Whoof, but please call me Doc."
Sherlock asked about how Doc ended up in that location, whether he saw his attacker, and if he knew of anyone out to get him. After a moment of silence, either still in shock or simply still amazed by Sherlock's deductions, Doc was finally able to recount a memory from the attack.
"Clothespin! Blue!" Doc exclaimed.
"I'm going to need a little bit more information than that," Sherlock snickered, with a tinge of sass in his voice.
"I saw a blue girl with a clothespin cutie mark, but I don't remember anything else, sorry."
"That'll do for now," said Sherlock, trying to sound more empathetic this time around.
Making the connection just a little slower than everybody else, Cassandra jutted in, "Ooh clothespin! Maybe we should go to the department store and see if that girl works there."
"Wrong," remarked Sherlock
"It was just a suggestion. I'm just trying to help," whimpered the once cheerful girl.
Sherlock, letting out a groan of annoyance, continued on with typical procedure. By this point, Willie returned with a rag and bandage and began helping Doc cover the open wound.
"Now if you don't mind, I need to do more investigation before the criminal has more time to get away."
Sherlock asked Doc a few more questions regarding the time of the attack and weapon used. After useless answers, he looked around the crime scene to find a sharp stick with a red stain in a nearby bush. Rolling his eyes behind his head, Sherlock wondered whether there were any logical creatures in this world, smart enough to know not to leave the attack weapon a few feet from its crime scene.
Pippi Longstocking, concerned for Doc's health, said, "Should we help him inside?"
Tommy and Annika fled to Doc's side and helped him up the stairs to his house.
Once Doc was on the couch, Sherlock wasted no time. He asked Doc for the records of his patients in order to find any correlations between them and the attacker. Many questions and several hours later, Sherlock had remained in the same spot as previously.
He let out a sigh, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Tommy softly asked, "Is there anything we can do to help?"
Without awareness of the kind offer, Sherlock snarked, "As I have already made it super clear, this is my profession. I use my intelligence to determine how to solve crimes and I don't need your stupid ponies' help."
Everyone got super quiet, including Doc. Pippi Longstocking walked out the door. The other five ponies followed.
Sherlock continued with his work without wasting an ounce of empathy on the now dispersed ponies. He checked the crime scene outside again and spent another few hours trying to piece together the motive. By the time Sherlock took a break, the town of girlville had grown dark from nightfall.
Sherlock was so frustrated he hadn't gotten anywhere in his search. Why am I struggling so much? thought Sherlock.
At this point he decided it would be better to rest, blaming this new world for his loss of intellectual abilities. Doc offered his place to Sherlock for the night and he was quick to accept.
The next morning, Sherlock woke up and went straight to work, continuing on from where he left off the previous night.
No matter how long Sherlock spent mapping out scenarios and retracing all the steps of Doc from the previous day, he kept running into the same place. He was too unfamiliar with this world to get him far in his search. Then it struck him.
"Aha!" Sherlock exclaimed to himself.
The words of Cassandra filled his mind. "...clothespin! Maybe we should go to the department store...if that girl works there."
Sherlock realized that maybe Cassandra was onto something. He rushed out of Doc's house without sparing a second to explain.
He ran to Annika's house, surprised he didn't get lost on the way. He rang the doorbell and waited anxiously for the door to open. Annika poked her head out of the door. "Hellooo! How can I help ya?"
Before Sherlock could respond, the door opened completely, unveiling the six ponies with wide eyes full of anticipation.
"I need all of your help."
Suddenly sparkles twirled around Sherlock. As he was lifted off the ground he realized that asking for help was the magical gateway back to London.
In the matter of seconds, his vision went blurry and he was entirely covered by an intense light.
Once the sparkles dispersed around him, he noticed the London street below him.
Splat!