The Eccentric Detective
Have you heard of him, the lonely detective, who sits with shoulders hunched in the shadows?
Crouched before a bright screen, his window to the world outside, like a king before his subjects.
Yes, many know of him, but very few see him, the man on the other side of the looking glass.
Few see how the King of Crime-solving dresses in the plainest manner.
Few see the dark bags contrasted against the wide, alert charcoal eyes.
And even fewer, yet, have gazed into those dark orbs that sparkle with such energy, as if in protest to the thousands of lives it has seen lost.
They may seem morose at times, but never tired, these round eyes that have seen murder and rape and ruin.
His scarred heart that has felt sadness and remorse continues to beat steadily, fit for a cool and calm persona.
Perhaps he hears, though he does not listen to, the chorus of voices chanting,
"Mister Detective, thank you!" after every successful investigation.
Gratitude is wasted on the ears of this strange detective, as this man does not seek justice for the sake of others.
Crime solving is a pastime, a way of shielding himself from boredom.
He is an unusual specimen, this gifted detective, a man with a brilliant mind and an aptitude for foolishness, trapped in the body of a mortal.
A body that is thin, despite his large appetite, and pale-faced, with cream-colored skin that rarely feels the warmth of the sun.
"What do we call this creature?" the people ask.
"Is he Batman, who lurks in the darkness?"
"Might he be another Sherlock Holmes?"
He is known by many names, though he favors the simplest of all,
A single letter, with the prominence of a thousand words.
In the mind of the childish detective, shoes are a hindrance and sweet snacks are essential for justice to prevail.
But when the mask these quirks have created is broken, a lonely man peeks through the cracks.
For triumphing as "number one" makes it rather difficult for any man to spot an equal from his place on a pedestal above the world.
His methods of deduction are quite a show to behold; the world watches as the silly detective lies and acts like a simpleton and dances back and forth over the lines of legality.
All for justice.
But in the face of the world, these tactics do not matter, nor do his face or voice.
Even against the undying curiosity of many, they do not demand to know the identity of this hero.
For the actions of a man speak louder than his name.
In the eyes of the people, the Old English letter upon their television screens merely signifies two things:
That L, the Eccentric Detective, is on the case.
And that justice will prevail.
Author's Note: Just a little character analysis of L. By the time I was all done, it sounded like it may be from Watari's point of view, but that's up to the reader. Another element I'd like to point out is that in the beginning, I was sort of comparing L to the Doctor from Doctor Who. I don't know, is it just me, or are there a ton of similarities between L and the Eleventh Doctor? Maybe it's just me. Anyway, this is my first story, so please review and tell me what you think!