"It's definitely the one that killed him, but…" Sherlock trailed off as he examined the dead wild Arcanine's corpse a little closer, making Greg Lestrade grimace in mild alarm. "There's something off about her," the detective finally finished, clearing his throat and standing up.
"You mean besides the fact that it tore open the bodies of thirteen individuals before we finally stopped the thing?" Lestrade replied, making Sherlock roll his eyes in irritation.
By stop, Lestrade meant that the surrounding officers had loaded the poor Pokémon up with bullets so that it looked like a giant, Arcanine-shaped piece of swiss cheese. After Sherlock had specifically requested they capture the Pokémon alive. Its strength had proven too much, however.
"It appears ill," Sherlock went on, circling the large animal with curiosity. "Like it was touched by some sort of disease. Look at the discolouration in her fur and eyes," he pointed out, kneeling by the Arcanine's head again, brushing back the fur to reveal frightfully bloodshot eyes, and a faded paling of the fur.
"Can we have her brought back?" he asked, turning to face Lestrade now. "I know Molly doesn't typically do Pokémon autopsies, but perhaps she could make an exception." He'd never seen this in a Pokémon before, and he was slightly troubled by it. Lestrade muttered his consent and Sherlock left the crime scene, his Houndoom close by his side, steam hissing ominously from his mouth.
"I don't understand it, Redbeard," Sherlock commented as he walked down the street, Redbeard watching him with intelligent eyes. Sherlock had spent a large part of his time studying Pokemon and their many mysteries, and he didn't hold with the idea of them as stupid beasts. He knew they were smart, many of them even sentient. "It's like she… became rabid," he went on, pausing.
He thought back to the Arcanine, closing his eyes and he recalled her image. Something about her kept bothering him, besides the fact that she'd been killed. It wouldn't stop nagging in his brain that there was something important that he hadn't connect yet.
"Eggs!" he exclaimed suddenly, opening his eyes and startling the fiery canine beside him. "She was developing milk. She either has eggs close to hatching or fresh pups," he went on, his eyes widening in alarm. The babies would die either way unless Sherlock could track them down. "Let's go."
He and Redbeard hurried along the sidewalk, the midday sun beating down when they heard a scream. Breaking into a run, he came into view of the action just in time to see a Trainer's Pokémon suddenly turn on him, tearing into the man's flesh like paper. Even from his distance, Sherlock could see the bloodshot red eyes and discoloured fur.
"Oh, no…" he whispered.
Smelling his presence, the Pokémon turned and raced toward him. Sherlock recognized it as a Nidorino, and as it neared, Redbeard put himself between Sherlock and the hostile Pokémon.
"Flamethrower, quickly! Don't let it touch you," Sherlock called out, and the Houndoom let out a blast of high temperature flame that brought a pinkish shade to Sherlock skin from the sheer heat of it. The Nidorino screeched in pain and tried to hit Redbeard with a horn attack, but the fire dog leapt aside and cast another flamethrower, bringing the Nidorino down.
Approaching the burnt body, Sherlock looked between the Pokemon and the unfortunate Trainer.