Case One: The Speckled Unicorn

You show up at the specified meeting place written carefully on the scrap of paper enclosed in your bag of 50 bits. There, you wait for the rest of your party and read it again. This is certainly going to be the oddest thing you will ever do, and you hope that it won't become too dangerous.

All it says is: Julia Stoner.

You remember seeing in an old paper somewhere that a young pegasus by the name of Julia Stoner had been found in her bed. The reason of her death was impossible to deduce, and the guards were baffled. It seemed that, for some reason, the steadily more famous Sherlock Hooves wanted you to solve the case... but how?

That is what you are here for. This is why you are part of The Network. If there's any way to help solve a case, no matter how unsociable your unlikely employer is, you're the pony to ask.

Now, to find out about the skills of these other street wanderers...

Posting order:

Calla Lily (This one counts as my first post)
Candle_Glow
Moonlemon
Switchblade

The game is on!

Ink stain tucked the paper scrap among the handful of others she constantly carried with her. At the very least, she could get a story out of this.
Heart beating brilliantly, she kept her eyes peeled for any sign of somepony related to the request of Mister Sherlock Hooves.

The filly was so nervous. So incredibly, painfully nervous. But it wasn't for the reasons you'd think. It wasn't that she was scared that this job was going to be dangerous; she knew it probably would be. No, she was anxious that she wouldn't be good enough. She couldn't do math calculations, she couldn't even read. She just hoped her puzzle-finding skills and street-smart instincts would prove herself to be good enough to work for the famous Sherlock Hooves.

With her lute slung over her shoulder, a bag full of various off necessity items, and her hoof carrying the note, she trotted forward. It was close... oh, she was probably on the wrong level... Being how she's on a roof, and all. Swinging herself over the edge, and past a few railings, she pulled herself down nearly as easily as a monkey. Misfit pounced onto the floor from the edge of a ceiling-lining, unsure that this was the right spot. That is, until she saw a mare just a few feet from her. "A-aye!" She called out hesitantly as she trotted it closer. What is she was in the wrong place? What if this was a trick?

Switchblade walked along casually but cautiously, afraid that somepony might be tricking him with this whole mystery idea, but the idea intrigued him so he wandered along the streets to the meeting point, he wondered how many would show up for this. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out one of the two possessions he couldn't bear to part with, a map of the general area, once he was sure of his direction, he carried on, sword at his side in case it was a trap.

Switchblade walked into an area where there was only a filly and a mare, is this all we have, he thought to himself, expecting more ponies to be there. He walked up to the two already there and said "Note carriers as well?" leaving it vague so that he could keep this a secret if they weren't hired by Holmes.

Calla Lily followed the ponies quietly, not wanting to seem out of place while also trying not to lose anyone. There was a rather skittish stallion with a piece of fluttering paper in his hoof, and Calla deduced that this was one of her companions. She followed him to their specified meeting place and smiled to see that there were two others that the detective had hired. Good.

Calla Lily wasn't homeless, persay... she had just volunteered to work with some homeless ponies in an attempt to get them employed and back on their feet. She'd gone so far as to camp out in one of Canterlot's not-so-nice hostels to get a feel for what was going on in Canterlot's hidden demographic.

Then she discovered the Homeless Network.

She must have proven quite the convincing homeless mare, because even Sherlock Hooves didn't know that she didn't belong out on the streets.

"Hello," she said to the other three. "Pleasure to meet you."

Ink nodded. "The pleasure is mine."
Quietly she wiped a hoof along the ground, making a darkish mark where her filfth and ink rubbed off slightly. "I'm Ink Stain, you three are?"

The filly watched as two other ponies came. It calmed her slightly, since it meant this was probably the right place. Still, her heart still bested quickly and quietly, both nervous and excited.

She nodded her head to the stallion. She was a note-carrier. Is that what they were calling themselves? She didn't know, but it's not like she was gonna ask.

"Oh, I'm..." She paused. Was it safe to tell these ponies her name? Aw, what did it matter. It wasn't even her real name anyhow. "W...Well, I'm called Misfit. Nice to meet you, Stain ma'am." She declared, barely keeping her stutter down. Oh, no, what if Mister Sherlock thought she was dumb because of her public stutter? Oh gosh, she hoped not. Just another thing to worry about.

Speaking of Mister Sherlock, Misfit wondered when he'd get here...

Switchblade leant against a wall, checking along his sword's bladelength for scratches, he was so engrossed in his search that he nearly missed Ink's question, he looked up and spoke with a dry, flat voice "The name is Switchblade." he looked around casually "So, where is this legendary Sherlock Hooves then? Or have we all been made to look the fool." he said callously.

Switchblade looked at a small mirror fragment on the floor, he levitated it up and looked at his face, he was growing a beard, he sighed and used the blade of his sword to shave the beard off, with slow deliberate movements. Once he was done he wiped the blade on the scabbard and leant back against the wall.

Calla Lily frowned at the suggestion that she had been fooled. She doubted that it could happen with someone so easily recognizable by his indifferent and unsympathizing demeanor. Even for the briefest moment of a meeting the first time, she could tell he was what she might politely call an arse.

"My name is McCallum Lily Hooves," she answered the mare, "but that's a formal name. Calla is what I go by, though some ponies call me Lily. Rare, but I respond to it." She smiled.

~NPC: Sherlock Hooves~

The great detective stepped out from the shadows, not in the slightest amused by the comments of the skeptics. Typical with a group of newbies.

He addressed the group from behind. "I use members of the Network to help some the more trivial cases that come my way. You are my eyes and ears all over the city, and do believe me when I say that every single one of you is indispensable."

He pointed with a navy hoof towards the notes in their hooves.

"You know who this is. I want you to delve a little deeper into this story. Find out her cause of death, most recent place of residency... anything; because the guards are most certainly not going to release it to the public anytime soon, and my hooves are rather... full, at the moment."

Ink Stain gave a curt nod, her eyes slightly shimmering when she saw the legendary stallion.
"Leave it to us, Mister Holmes."

Misfit frowned a little at Switchblade's comment. What if they were just being made fools? Or worse... what if this was a trap? A perfect little scheme to get anypony willing to help Sherlock taken care of. A few months ago, she wouldn't have thought things in the city were that bad, but crime rights were being driven up the wall. There was already enough murderers in the backstreets of London; she knew personally. She's seen some. Well, one or two, but one or two was enough, and she hoped to keep it that way. No, he'd come. She'd seen him with her own eyes, though it was only for a few moments. She knew he'd be here.

Before she could further question herself and the fact of why they were all there, he came, stepping from the dark like a shadow himself.

Sherlock Hooves.

She tried to keep herself from staring, but the ball of nerves in her gut tightened. This was the famous detective. Oh, gracious, he was even more impressive-looking than the rumors. Now, if she had been an older mare, she'd probably be swooning. As it was, she was simply gazing up at the stallion like a foal meeting their favorite celebrity. Which he was, in a way. She absolutely adored his ways, his skills, his quick mind; all things she wished she had. ...He could probably tell too. Bah, but that wasn't what worried her. She was indispensable. It was almost pitiful the way those words caused her such content.

"Yes, sir! I-I'll be sure to help any way I can! ...But... w-where should we start, Mister Sherlock Sir?"

Switchblade kept his facial expression the same, but was kind of relieved that it wasn't a trick, he said nothing in response to Hooves' statement but nodded to show acknowledgement.

~NPC: Sherlock Hooves~

"That's quite up to you," he said, turning to the filly. "Ask around. I'm sure it will be easy for you to find an address. There's quite a lot of ponies in the Network."

He turned rather brusquely and trotted away, flipping his collar up and disappearing into the city. There was no farewell, but that was how he functioned.

~

Calla frowned as he left. With a shake of her head, she turned to the other three and grimaced.

"I suppose he's right. I have a few friends who could ask around and locate the address. Do you have any other ideas?"

Ink smirked, wicking out a notepad and a pen. "I have friends, well former friends in the paper business, and a few acquaintances in the mail service. I'm sure one of them would be capable of helping us dig up something."
Quickly she wrote down the names of her friends. Taking notes on what each pony said, just so she could remember.

Misfit nodded at the acclaimed detective, but it seemed like he had already turned around, and returned back into the shadows of the city.

"I suppose he's right. I have a few friends who could ask around and locate the address. Do you have any other ideas?"

Ideas. Ideas? Oh, yes. "...I know plenty of p-ponies that could help. Well... k-kinda. Th-there's tons of colts that live in the alleyway that here almost anything and e-everything. Give them a reason or...  I don't know, a bit or two, and they'll be y-your extra ears without blinking an eye. ...I don't have any bits, but I could be a good transactor..."

She twiddled with her hooves. "Besides, I could probably get s-some help anyway. Some of them owe me f-favors. Does that help at all?" Celestia bucking sake, she felt so young in front of these other ponies. Did they think she was stupid or naive? No, they didn't. And if they did, then she'd prove the otherwise.

Switchblade looked at the other ponies around him, all talking about what friends they could ask for information, he simply stayed silent, as he knew that all of his old 'friends' would not be willing to tell him anything at all about this case.

"I don't have any bits, but I could be a good transactor..."

Switchblade heard what the filly said, he pulled out his savings of bits, which including Mr Hooves' gift, was about 85 bits and handed them to the filly. "Knock yourself out, kid. Just don't go round telling whoever you bribe with that who gave you the money. I'm not exactly best liked round here." Switchblade leaned back against the wall and took his goggles off to polish them briefly before putting them back on.

Calla nodded, satisfied.

"Alright, ponies. Let's get to work. Meet back here at midnight with your findings. I'd hate to let Mr. Hooves down... if that can be done, of course."

She pulled her bag over her head and hoofed each pony a walkie-talkie. It was something she figured she'd need at some point or another, and had borrowed them from a friend after being approached by the detective. Staying in contact was key... at least, she thought so. She'd never actually done something like this before.

"Good luck, everypony."

(We can either flash to the future or do a minisode in a post on each pony's findings, it's completely up to you)

((either or, uuuh, I guess it's up to me, sorry about the late post yall.))
Ink Stain leaned against the wall under the bridge, a place she had indicated to the others as a new meeting location, just to switch it up and to make sure they were not be infiltrated. In her once creamy ink stained hoofs she held a notepad, which she flipped through every now and then, glancing around. She hope the others found out enough to help Mr. Holmes, as she dug she had discovered a great deal of tension surrounding the mare in question at the Newspaper.

(Oh, geese, you guys could've skipped me! I'm sorry for making you all wait! I personally vote for the flash to the future, if that's alright)

She had wanted to refuse Switchblade's money the moment he had brought it out of his pocket. She didn't accept money. However, she mulled it over,candy realized she was not using this for herself, but for the case. As such, she would put it to good uses, and only on things that helped with the case. The latter part had been harder to maintain. She had seen a very delicious-looking cinnamon bun on the way there.

It was so very dark, but that was nothing new. The filly saw that Ink Stain was already there. She greeted her with a shy wave. She thought she had dug up some useful information. She just hoped it was good enough.

Switchblade walked into the specified meeting point, he walked with a slight limp and had a black eye, he saw Ink Stain and the filly who he gave his money to, he limped over to them, changing the bandage around his left eye, where the glass of the goggles was now broken.

He leant against a wall near the two ponies and reviewed his findings. He was starting to get tired with what he kept having to go through on a daily basis, but decided to keep his mouth shut, so he would not get booted out of his only source of income since the incident.

Calla stumbled into the meeting room. She was soaking wet, with blue fur hanging off of her in matted, soggy tufts of muddy knots. She was breathing hard, like she had sprinted halfway across Canterlot to return in time. Which she had.

"I... *wheeze* have... *cough* a lead," she sputtered. "What...*deep breath* did you... *deep breath* ponies find?"

She took a few moments to recover fully before she noticed she was shivering. Slightly embarrassed by her bedraggled state, she fired up her horn and began the tedious process of drying herself off. When she finished, she more closely resembled a dirty puffball than a pony. Groaning, she knew that it would take at least an hour for her fur to settle down, but she guessed it was better than being wet all day. With a hopeful smile below her blush, she looked to Ink Stain, possibly to confirm her findings. Her "friends" had been somewhat helpful... right before they shoved her in the river.

(Apologies for the late post, but last week was rather hectic and I had a lot to catch up on. Thanks for your patience!)

Ink nearly laughed at the sight of Calla the puffball, but held it in. "Luckily, I had a friend in the newspaper who actually knew her former address, since they delivered papers. I also learned that there was actually a bit of tension surrounding this mare at the printing office. I didn't dig in, didn't get the chance, but it made me suspicious." Ink nodded as she finished, looking to the others for their findings.