Written on and for Halloween, and Halloween prompts. Based on the prompt 'anything involving small children and either haunted houses or trick-or-treating—'. Vaguely somewhere in the latter timeline of the 'Vampire Detective AU'.
...
Shinichi had agreed only grudgingly to letting himself be dragged out on Halloween night by a bunch of grade schoolers... albeit ones he used to share a class with.
Although maybe that was part of the reason why he'd given in at all. He used to spend so much time with the kids, and now, hardly any, given he was an 'adult' again and 'Conan' was the one who knew them, not 'Shinichi'.
But they needed an adult tonight, and the professor was down with a cold, and Haibara didn't count, so... they'd asked him. They already knew him a bit anyway though, right? Through Conan's rambling, Ayumi said. They'd met a few times, Mitsuhiko added.
He thought that maybe they assumed that his eyes, glowing in the starlight, were reflective lenses to go with his costume, which was basically a version of the Night Baron but without a mask, a pitiful excuse for 'Dracula' which even Ran had rolled her eyes at.
The fangs that appeared occasionally could be put down to a very good make-up job and a trick of the light, if need be.
The first few houses they went to were friendly ones, just normal families, and they smiled at him as they opened the door to the kids and handed out the candy, as if sharing something conspiratorial, or assuming he was talked into putting 'so much effort' into his 'costume'.
One or two after that in between houses took one look at them and slammed their doors, although one was more polite and simply declined with apologies. They walked on.
It was Ayumi who suggested going into the house on the corner of that one block, which everyone said was haunted.
Shinichi had never much been one for believing in ghost stories, but then he'd never been one for believing in stories about vampires either, and look where that had gotten them all.
Still, he had retained some skepticism, enough to disbelieve that there was any substance to the stories, and thought that there couldn't be any real harm if he allowed the kids their fun on Halloween.
He did, however, follow them in - the last thing he wanted was to be waiting outside if something did happen, or if the ghost stories were merely a cover-up for an old murder case.
The first thing he noticed was the chill, an odd thing, considering that he was rarely bothered by temperature changes any more. The second, the feeling of a presence just behind him, almost as though it could have been peering over his shoulder. But when he looked around, there was no sign of anything.
He shook his head, and told Genta that it was nothng when the boy asked what was wrong.
It was nothing. There weren't such things as ghosts, Holmes had even said so - the world is big enough for us, no ghosts need apply.
This one, however, didn't seem to appreciate that part of Holmes, and chose just then, as he was thinking about it, to have its presence crop up by his shoulder again.
What are they doing?
He barely stopped himself from jumping and landing on the top of the stairs - not only was he not sure the house would appreciate it, but it would be a lot harder to explain away when the professor hadn't created any gadgets to emulate that sort of thing yet.
Are you detectives trying to find me? He wished this 'voice', whatever it was, would stop. He was questioning his sanity. It's not going to work. I'm not here any more.
Genta led everyone apart from him up the grand staircase, not too different from the one he had at home, Haibara sending him a light glare as she followed them that softened into a look of concern at the look that was on his face still.
D'you mind if I just sit here? It's nice. Being on your shoulders. Nicer than floating around everywhere, I mean.
How was this even... this wasn't happening, right? The presence certainly wasn't moving, and he didn't say anything, not knowing what to say.
It sounded young. That was the first thing that hit him. How young it sounded.
I don't even know if you can hear me. No one has, you know. Kind of weird if you could. No one since Gertie, who almost died herself on holiday that one year, but she was scared.
Shinichi let out a shaky breath. 'The world is big enough', huh. It looked like this one ghost was knocking at his 'door', so to speak.
"I, I can hear you," he said, feeling foolish for talking to, apparently, thin air. "I sort of died myself, but came back, but different..."
Oh, you can! You can hear me!
The cold feeling extended past his shoulders and around his neck, which felt cloying, claustrophobic and like he was being strangled at first - regardless how that was a physical impossibility now - until he realised that the strange, childish presence was hugging him.
I'm Takeshi! I'm eight, and I like sentai anime!
Eight. An eight year old boy... he swallowed the scared, sick feeling in his gut, and licked his lips past his fangs.
"Shinichi... Kudo Shinichi. I'm a detective, but we didn't come here looking for you. I'm sorry," he said softly, wishing there was something more he could do.
That's alright. I said, I'm not here any more. Are you a good detective? I bet you've got lots of stories, right?
Right. Lots of stories...
"Well," he said slowly, contemplating his options, "there was a time when I looked your age, and I went by the name 'Edogawa Conan', and I had a lot of adventures then."
I don't know that name either. Were they fun adventures?
"Hm, I guess some of them were, yeah..."
And he began to tell stories as the children explored the house that no longer held one small boy, because after all, even if Gin, Vodka and the entire rest of the Organisation were still out there-
Dead men told no tales. And dead little boys even less so.
...
AN: For the curious - yes, I am working on the main story! However, it isn't a continuation. Instead, it's a re-write. Straight from the first chapter to the recent stuff, and it's likely that a great many plot points will end up being changed as a result, but I'll end up more satisfied with it.