A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan, nor Magic Kaito, or any of the characters involved. They are the creation and property of Gosho Aoyama. May his well of imagination never run dry.

Conan was awoken by the smells of breakfast that were wafting in from the kitchen. He scratched, yawning before reaching for his glasses which were folded on top of the books he had been reading into the night. "A Study in Scarlet." The first of Sherlock's great cases with Watson sat atop the small pile.

"Conan! Dad! Breakfast is ready!" Conan slipped out from under his covers and padded quietly to the door, ojii-san stirring slightly in his bed. It was, he decided, one of the most annoying things about being shrunk. The height of doorknobs. He stretched on tiptoes to reach the handle but before the touched it, it turned of its own volition and he had to jump back as Ran opened the door.

"Come on Conan!" she told him crossly, beckoning at him with a wooden spoon. "You should be out of bed!" she directed the spoons wrath to the lump of duvet that was her father, "I don't care how much you had to drink last night, I am not cooking another breakfast!"

Ran breezed out, followed by Conan who took his seat at the table, only having to half-fake the childish, eager look on his face as Ran put his plate before him.

"Thank you Ran nee-chan!" he exclaimed, inclining his head.

"That's fine Conan-kun. It's nice to know that someone, "she directed evil's at the ajar bedroom door, "appreciates my cooking."

Both he and Ran had finished eating by the time Mouri Kogoro staggered from his bedroom. He grumbled as he collected his food, something along the lines of "I can't believe... cold... respect..."

"So Conan-kun, aren't you meeting with the others today?" Ran asked him as he helped her tidy up. Oh Yeah. Truth be told, it'd slipped his mind.

"Yeah. I'm meeting them at Beika Shopping Centre. Not sure why, Ayumi-chan wanted to go." He shrugged.

"Same, I'm going with Sonoko-chan later; maybe I'll see you there."

"That'd be cool." He smiled at Ran, who was smiling at him while stacking the dishwasher, he returned the smile. "I'd better get ready."

-0-

Conan stepped onto the street and turned in the direction to the shopping centre. He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand before dropping his skateboard to the street. He began to propel his way towards the centre. It was time like this when he almost enjoyed being small, he thought vaguely as he cruised the streets of Tokyo. Before long, he was at the centre and he dropped off his skateboard in one of the possession lockers outside the centre. He climbed a set of stairs, wondering why they were meeting on the third floor. When he got there he went to the information desk to wait, returning the smile of the girl at the desk who immediately turned to her friend, exclaiming, "OMG, How Cute!"

He sighed and looked around. He was standing next to the only free bit of floor that he could, all other space taken up by clothes stands or tables covered with miscellaneous items for sale. Nearby was a couple sporting a box containing free samples for a new brand of... the girl had turned, blocking the brand name. Her friend had an unlabelled tray of sampling cups. He saw Conan watching him and grinned, emphasizing his classical surfer-boy looks.

"Do you want some, little man?" he crouched to Conan's level, proffering the tray jovially.

"You can't offer that to him!" the guys female companion looked shocked, hand on hip in a characteristically Ran-like look on her face, "He's too young." The guy turned his head in her direction.

Fed up with being treated like a kid and being patronised, Conan grabbed a cup and downed the contents in one, to find out that it was a spicy type of alcohol. Spicier than he was expecting. He coughed and spluttered and the guy looked at him, surprised.

"Whoops, Sorry, little man, I was only kidding!" he pulled the tray out of Conan's reach, standing to face his partner, "I didn't know..."

Conan missed the rest of the guys pleas as he walked away to lean against the desk, coughing and rubbing his throat against the low burn left by the alcohol, combined with the original soreness from his cold and the coughing.

Where were they? Even they weren't this late. Often. Conan sighed, resigning himself to the wait.

Someone ran past, coughing into a surgical mask. Conan grimaced, if his cold got any worse, he'd probably be required to wear one as well. As if on cue, a coughing fit came. It took a few moments to abate, when it did however, it left his throat sore and dry. Conan tried to clear his throat before leaning back and watching the people around him to pass time.

Mother; Banker; traditional housewife, judging by her kimono, ring and hairstyle; a girl his own age, foreign, pale skin, dark hair, looking around furtively, possibly on holiday; a man just out of a messy divorce, bagged red eyes, pale band of un-tanned skin on his finger, unkempt appearance, clearly unaccustomed to buying his own clothes. Conan started. Standing on the other side of the clearing was... himself! Or at least a boy who looked like Shinichi. Having overcome his original surprise, Conan could see some difference. He had a different hairstyle, less tamed and a lighter shade of brown. The boy kept checking his watch and tutting, probably waiting for his friend or friends, like Conan. Conan could vaguely remember that time when Ran swore that she had seen Shinichi with another girl... while Conan was certain that this was impossible as he had defiantly stayed as mini-him at the time. Chances are, he reasoned, that it was this guy, or even yet another Shinichi-lookalike who wandered the streets

Pain flashed through him. It was gone as soon as it had started, like a pulse. He knew that feeling. He realised that he was overheating, sweat lacing his brow. An inner heat throbbed through him. He needed to get out of there. Though the exit was tempting, there was no guarantee of a safe place that he could reach in time to hide and change. Not to mention the clothes problem. Clothes.

He ran across the room, darting between clothing racks into the clothing section, unaware, in his hurry, of the Shinichi-lookalike's eyes following him. He ran towards the big sign depicting the words 'Changing Rooms.' The Store girl in charge of the area was retreating away form her post, trying to conceal her phone conversation, giggling down the line as she conversed to some one who must be, to be referred to with that manner and tone, her boyfriend.

He stumbled to his knees as another spasm ran through him. He paused for a moment panting, trying to will himself back to his feet. He lurched up and sprinted the last few metres, turning the Open/Closed sign as he went, slipping into a curtained cubicle

Everything seemed eerily calm for those few moments after the run, as he stood panting in the empty cubicle before his next spasm. He gasped, falling to his knees, clutching his chest, breathing heavily.

Something occurred to him. He gauged that he had enough time. He left the cubicle briefly, daring to the returned items rack. He saw a pair of jeans and a top that seemed to be of a teenage size and managed to yank them off their hanger. Of to the side he saw a pile of spare boxes containing various items of underwear, including socks! He grabbed a couple thanking whichever deity that must be watching over him before dashing back into the changing room.

Another spasm came and passed. Gritting his teeth against the uprising pain, he kicked off his adapted trainers, stripping off the rest of his gadgets, including his belt. He put his glasses and his watch inside his trainers. He shrugged his jacket off. He was moving as quick as he could, hoping that he'd be able to avoid explaining to Ran exactly how he ended up shredding his clothes. He'd just slipped his trousers of when he felt the final surge of pain. He bit down on his bunched up T-shirt to prevent his screams as he was overtaken by the searing pain. His blood boiled, his bones cracked and twisted and his skin pulled itself to its limit. He managed to stay quiet. Just.

When it was all over, a tall, slim, good-looking, raven-haired teenager left the changing room, zipping up a rucksack that was probably too small for a young man his age. Before leaving the changing area, Kudo Shinichi chose a hooded sweatshirt off the rack which proved slightly too large for him. He tutted at his socked feet before noticing a pair of trainers next to the entrance of the area. He frowned. They hadn't been there before had they? He picked them up and examined them before slipping them on.

No one spared a glance for the tall hooded boy who walked out of the 'closed' changing room, not eve the store girl, still tied up in animated conversation with her boyfriend.

Shinichi reached the information desk to see that the free alcohol samplers had moved on. It didn't take a detective of his experience to realise that it was whatever they had been serving that had caused his change. As he made a mental note to track the couple to find out what alcohol it was for Haibara, he couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of it all, alcohol acting as a cure to the poison supplied by his liquor-named friends.

That was when the first explosion rocked the building.