The next afternoon was cooler than yesterday, the sky overcast with light gray clouds. Twilight Sparkle walked through the Ponyville Park, barely aware of anything around her. Her mind was still going over the events of the last evening.

The library had been her home for the past four years: a safe place for herself and Spike, a refuge from the rest of the world. But just last night, the walls of her illusory immunity had been torn down. Somepony had broken into her home, walked right in like it was the easiest thing in the world. What if Spike had been there alone? The thought made her shudder.

Her thoughts drifted to the stallion in the gray trilby. There had been no further word from Phillip since last night. What was he doing? Had he perhaps taken the bracelet for himself?

So deep in thought was she that she didn't notice Applejack and Rarity until she almost bumped into them. "Head up in the clouds again, Twi?" Applejack grinned.

"I was just thinking about yesterday," Twilight replied.

Applejack nodded. "Bet you're kind of scared that somepony broke into your home, right?"

Rarity shuddered. "I'm just glad that you were gone when it happened. There's no telling what an uncouth burglar would have done to you or to Spikey-Wikey."

"I appreciate the concern, girls, but I'll be all right," Twilight said, managing a small smile. The trio started walking down the flowery path of the park. "I'm also thinking about Phillip Finder," Twilight added.

Applejack nodded. "That Phillip was a strange fellow. What's even stranger was that even Pinkie didn't know him."

"Maybe he doesn't want others to notice him," Twilight said.

"His sense of fashion certainly..." Rarity paused suddenly, looking up. "Do you hear music?"

Turning, they saw Phillip himself, sitting on the same park bench next to the duck pond. He lay back on the bench, playing a light jazz tune on his saxophone. His eyes were shut as his hooves floated up and down, gently caressing the instrument while he summoned its gentle music. Phillip's trilby was placed upside-down on the bench beside him. The trio ducked behind a bush to observe the show. A passing unicorn dropped a few bits into the trilby, earning a brief nod from Phillip.

As the mares watched, Phillip finished the song, drawing out the last note for a little as he slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, there seemed to be some distant look on his face, as if he was somewhere far away. But then, as he lowered the instrument, his cold, neutral expression returned. He placed the bits from his hat into one of the pockets on his vest, donned the hat again, packed the saxophone into a carrying case that he then heaved up onto his back, and started walking away. He never glanced up towards the mares; he appeared not to have noticed them.

"Come on," Applejack said. "He hasn't seen us. Let's follow him and see where he goes."

"Applejack, spying on ponies is very rude..." Rarity started to protest, watching the stallion's retreating form. "...but I suppose some curiosity never harmed anypony."

The trio began to follow the stallion, staying far behind him, hiding behind corners and other obstacles in an attempt to keep out of sight. Phillip made his way down the streets of Ponyville, past other houses and vendors. He never looked around, seemingly unaware of his pursuers.

Finally, they reached eastern suburbs of Ponyville. They turned down a dead end road, B Boulevard. Phillip walked up to a small blue two-story cottage, labeled 221. He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

The three mares stood at the end of the street, considering their options. "Should we go see him?" Rarity asked.

"I think we should drop by and talk to him—" Twilight started to suggest.

"Oi!" a voice called. Phillip was leaning out the window of his cottage, looking right at them. He jerked his head towards the house, indicating for them to come inside, before disappearing back inside.

"Well, I guess that solves that problem," Twilight said. The three of them headed to the door and, finding it unlocked, stepped inside. The sound of jazz piano music guided them down the hallway and into the living room.

The main room of Phillip's house was large, but very simple. There were no photos or paintings on the walls, or any real decoration. A large bookshelf was placed against one wall, which Twilight examined intently. There was a smattering of fiction—mostly classics—but a lot of the books were science texts, which spanned a number of disciplines—law, psychology, history, sociology, and most of the physical sciences. A large sofa was set up on the opposite end of the room, before which was a table that had a chessboard set up on it, apparently in the middle of a game—most likely against Phillip himself, judging by the book of chess openings next to it. The saxophone carrying case was placed next to a phonograph and stack of jazz records placed against the far wall. Next to the stack was a piano, which Phillip was currently sitting at, idly playing another jazz tune off of some hoof-drawn sheet music before him. His trilby sat on top of the instrument.

"If you sheilas wanted to know where I lived, you could've just asked," he said without looking up.

"You knew we were following you?" Twilight asked. "The whole time?"

"Yup," Phillip grunted. The mares turned red with embarrassment. Phillip continued playing the piano, then paused momentarily. He replayed a section, then, shaking his head, erased some of the notes on the sheet music and rewrote the section.

"Oh, you compose?" Rarity asked in interest.

"Helps me think," Phillip said, without turning or pausing the song. There was another long pause, Phillip's continuing melody the only sound in the room.

"So," Twilight said, trying to break the awkward silence. "We came to ask if you had found out anything else about the case."

"And I also want to know exactly you figured out all that stuff about those crooks," Applejack added.

Phillip finished the song before turning around to address them. "Sheilas, I'm a detective," he said. "That means I solve mysteries. Not mysteries such as, 'what is the purpose of life,' as that falls within the category of philosophical conundrums. I solve practical mysteries. For example, how does a pearl bracelet that, according to the serial numbers, was stolen from a jewelry shop from Canterlot, end up in a book in Ponyville, and who would come to steal it?" He shrugged his shoulders. "It's just a matter of knowing what to look for.

"The biggest clue was the tracks on the ground, especially a set of four hoofprints on the ground beneath the lockbox," he continued. "They were from the lookout, and they were much deeper than his other tracks; that was when his partner stood on his back to reach the lockbox. That told me that they were both Earth ponies; a pegasus would have flown up and a unicorn would have taken it by magic. It also told me from the depth that the partner was heavy set.

"Following the partner inside, I noticed scratches in the floor from the loose nail in his horseshoe. From the length of his gait, and from the heights and angles of the books he tossed from the shelves, I was able to roughly determine his height. Faint hairs from the floor and from the window that he exited out of allowed me to determine his coat and mane colors. As for the lookout, he moved to the shade of a tree while there were much better places to watch, which led to the conclusion that he was of a light complexion and/or sunburned. There were also stains on the ground from where he spat out the sugar, which contained yellow hairs from his mustache."

"And how'd you know they were from Canterlot?" Twilight asked.

"The brand of horseshoes," Phillip explained. "A small brand that's sold almost exclusively in Canterlot, and very old by the fading."

"Amazing!" Rarity exclaimed, applauding. "It all seems so simple."

"Just a matter of observation and deduction," Phillip said, reaching for some papers sitting on top of the piano. "So I made some inquiries, sent a couple of telegrams, and identified our two blokes." He tossed the papers over to Twilight. She saw that they were criminal records on a pair of ponies, both accompanied by photos.

The first one was named Heavyhoof. As Phillip predicted, he was about three and a half feet tall with a dark red coat and greasy black mane, and very heavily built. He had mean green eyes and a deep scowl, accentuated by the stubble around his mouth. His partner was Shady Mane. He had a milky white coat with several sunburns across his back, a blonde mane with a thick mustache, icy blue eyes. The muscles attested to his strength. The files identified them both as from Canterlot, and as members of a band of jewel thieves. Their rap sheets were nothing to sneeze at: not just robbery and burglary, but also aggravated assault, arson, home invasion, and worse. Once again, she breathed a sigh of relief that she and Spike hadn't been in the library.

"The bracelet in the book was stolen from a store in Canterlot two days ago," Phillip said. "The thief, another member of the gang, fled into a bookstore, but was cornered by the City Guard. He tucked the bracelet into a book—ironically, the same book that you ordered, Twilight—before being caught. He managed to get a message to his two partners, and they tracked the book to here, and to you. And now I've got to find them."

"For a mastermind like you, that should be filly's play," Rarity said.

Phillip shrugged. "No worries."

Silence fell once more, and Twilight, Applejack and Rarity took the opportunity to examine Phillip up close. They saw that the gray eyes weren't silvery; they were colder and darker, like storm clouds. He was also older than they originally thought: the black of his mane had gray streaks running through, faint lines were stretching across his forehead, and crow's feet had started to peek out from the corners of his eyes, which had never shown any sign of emotion. He stared coolly back at them, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"We've really wasted enough of your time," Twilight said rather hurriedly. "We really should get going."

"Keep your eyes open," Phillip called, already turning back to the piano. The piano music followed the mares as they exited the hallway, closing the door behind them.

"He's sharper than a royal guard's spear," Applejack declared. "But he's harder to talk to than Big Mac."

"Yes, he was rather crude," Rarity frowned.

"I think that's just his nature," Twilight said with a small shrug as they turned away, heading back to the library.

Back inside 221 B Boulevard, Phillip finished his arpeggios. With a sigh, he lowered his face onto his hoof, slowly rubbing his forehead. Oi, he thought to himself. Can't they tell I just want to be left alone?

You've been alone for a really long time, another voice in the back of his head whispered. Phillip sighed; this was not the first time that that voice had spoken to him in this way, and he responded the same way he always had.

Shut it. You're a nuisance.

All of a sudden, Phillip's head snapped up. He turned in the direction of the Golden Oaks Library, his eyes narrowing and flashing, as his body froze in place. An image burned in his mind: Twilight, Rarity, and Applejack, walking back into the library.

His crime sense had just gone off.

Snatching up his trilby from the table, Phillip slammed it onto his head and raced out the door.

Author's Notes:

Channeling Sherlock Holmes for this chapter.

Thumbs up for Team Fortress 2 reference?