Shinchi leaned back into his chair, twiddled his pencil between thumb and index finger.
The paper work was horrendous, a serial killer with eight victims had finally been caught and he, as the detective who caught him, had to deal with a huge proportion of the legal mess.
Shinichi's laptop was almost out of charge, messy stacks of paper scattered his desk and his hand ached so much it felt like it was going to fall off.
The door hinges lightly creaked and Ran leaned into the room. "Shinichi," she murmured, placing a mug of steaming brown liquid next to the papers, "you should come to bed soon."
Shinichi recognised the smell. It wasn't coffee, the thing which he somdesperately needed to get through this horrendous workload, but hot chocolate, a completely useless drink without an ounce of caffeine.
When Shinichi opened his mouth to complain he realised Ran was gone.
After scrawling a few more notes down Shinichi figured that he could at least take the effort to drink what his wife had made him.
Shinichi clasped his hand around the hot chocolate, it's warmth southing his sore hands.
Shinichi had never been one for hot chocolate but, on this cold night when he was stuck doing paper work he appreciated having something warm to drink and so drank every last drop.
The feeling of warmth lingered for a while but as it left him Shinichi realised that he still had a few days in till the deadline.
He didn't want to be out here in the cold; he wanted to be warm, to snuggle up in thier bed.
After all, while the hot chocolate was warm, Ran was warmer.