Species: Earth Pony
Mane: Black and stylishly coiffed
Tail: Matching black and not particularly styled.
Eyes: Soft brown.
Cutie Mark: Magnifying glass
Personality: Self described a "Highly Functioning Sociopath", Sherlock Hooves has almost no patience for the bulk of the pony race, or any other sentient race. He has an ego the size of Canterlot and doesn't care one iota about anypony other than himself, with a few noteworthy exceptions. He doesn't act very 'normal' and is given to fits of odd behavior, such as mixing random chemicals or assaulting corpses with riding crops. Despite this, there is always method to his madness and reason beneath his chaos.
Likes: Himself, mental challenges, Mrs Cudson
Dislikes: His brother, his sister, stupid ponies
Born and raised in Trottingham, Sherlock Hooves had two older siblings; a brother and a sister. The three of them came from a poor family and, as such, never had the enjoyable finer things in life; toys, a hot meal every day, or a wide social circle from which to draw friends. All becoming antisocial in different manners, they entertained each other and themselves through guessing games about what they did and where they traveled during their day.
Over time the guessing games sharpened their observational skills. Sherlock's elder brother was the most adept at it but a severe laziness kept him from pursuing knowledge of 'why' after figuring out the 'what' though he was quite good at reasoning the 'why' if time permitted. His sister was the polar opposite and actively sought out the 'why', often forgetting the 'what' along the way. Sherlock had found a niche in the middle; always able to analyze the 'what' but striving to figure out the 'why' when reasoning didn't permit.
As they grew they grew apart. Childhood rivalries among them, combined with a somewhat abnormal sociological growth, ended up distancing them from each other. His older siblings went to work for the Equestrian government; the Sister for the military internal investigations and the brother for diplomacy, but Sherlock avoided the government like the plague...largely because his siblings were employed there.
He remained in Trottingham and through a series of events he unwittingly assisted the local police in solving a serial arson case after his own home was burned. Following that, he moved into an apartment owned by a bovine landlady by the name of Mrs Cudson.
The challenge of the arson case had thrilled him like nothing ever had, and he began to loiter around police officers in attempts to solve more cases. At first he was looked upon as a weirdo, and that never changed. But as his insights became more and more relied upon from the lead detective in Trottingham he became the weirdo that solved the impossible cases and earned him a division of fans and friends among the Trottingham police and more than a few enemies as well.
Example RP segment:
Sherlock left apartment 221b and looked up and down the street. He needed to undertake the terribly pedantic requirement of going to a grocery store to obtain food. Naturally, his body and mind needed food, but there was something about mingling with the general populace, even to the limited extent of ignoring the cashier's smalltalk and paying for his food, that gnawed at his patience.
He locked the door behind him then started down the street. Most of the ponies in Trottingham who knew him were wise enough not to attempt any form of mindless social interaction, such as saying "Hello, how are you?" or waving at him. The only time they would acknowledge Sherlock was if he was needed to solve one of their trivial problems. The ponies who didn't know him did not acknowledge him as they had their own quests to fulfill being out for the day.
As he rounded a corner that would put him on the proper street to find the grocery store, he saw young colt holding a doll over the head of a filly. The colt was a unicorn and he was using a basic levitation spell to keep the doll out of reach of the earth pony. The two had recently been released from school for the day judging by the presence of their saddlebags.
The colt noticed Sherlock looking and gave him an angry look. "What are you looking at?" he asked.
"A colt who recently failed a test and is taking out his aggravations on his younger sister whom is clearly more intelligent than he." Sherlock said plainly, still walking down the street. He was walking towards them at the moment, but had every intention of stepping around the two quibbling siblings when the unicorn stepped up to him and pointed his horn threateningly.
"Listen bub, you may not know who I am but I'm the toughest-" the colt began to say but was cut off when Sherlock lifted his hoof and smacked him across the face. This put a rather alarmed expression on the colt's face and also caused him to drop the doll into the grasping hooves of the filly.
"I'm telling my dad on you!" the colt yelled, running away from Sherlock. It didn't bother the stallion at all; his father owed Sherlock for keeping him out of jail on trumped up charges. Very likely, the colt would get a second smack once it became known that he tried to pick on Sherlock.
"Thanks mister!" the younger sibling said, smiling at Sherlock.
"Yes," Sherlock said with a nod, walking down the road as he continued on his original duty.
"'Scuse me!" the little one's voice sounded beside him; evidently the child was following him now, "But how did you know my brother failed his test? Oh, and how did you know he was my brother? We don't look alike or anything."
"I glimpsed a red mark on a crumpled piece of paper in his saddlebag," Sherlock said, "And just because your coats are different and he has a horn does not mean you share no family resemblance. Your eye, mane, and tail colors are the same. Your ears are of the same variety and you both posses a distinctive nostril flare that I recognize from your father. And before you ask; I know you're the smarter one because only the stupid pick on those younger and more helpless."
"Does that make you stupid because you hit a younger pony?" the filly asked. Sherlock couldn't help but smile, slightly, at the witty comment.
"Perhaps it does, or perhaps I was defending myself against a young unicorn who scarcely knew the power of his own horn and I didn't want his attempt to change my hair color result in temporary blindness."
"Wow," the filly said, "You even knew he was bad at magic! How did you know that? Did our daddy tell you? You said you recognized our noses because of him."
"Your father has nothing to do with it; no colt attending school and failing tests can possibly
be skillful in magic. He's failing and is too dull witted or too unskilled to use his magic go cheat and get better marks; why on earth would I want a pony like that even aiming his horn in my direction?" He was out front of the store now and turned to the girl. "Next time he gives you trouble, just tell him you know where I live and I don't particularly like him. If he continues to give you trouble, tell your father he annoyed Sherlock Hooves. That should solve the issue."
"Okay, thanks!" she said, giving him a cheery smile and hugging him. Sherlock rolled his eyes and waited for her to trot away before he resumed his intention of shopping. Of course, the first thing he heard when he got inside was the cashier going 'Awww' and making comments about Sherlock's secret good side. Sherlock ignored him and went about his own business.
Please bequeath upon me your Acceptance