In my opinion this story is a very crazy idea, since I am not a "literature" person at all but more a mathematic one :) writing well is a complicated objective for me.

At first I just wanted to make a Shinichi-Shiho video but I did not have time and my computer crashed (cries of frustration) so it was delayed and was never created . Adding to various fantastic fanfictions (cf favourites on my profile) I read, through time I slowly became infatuated with the Gin-Sherry couple and my original idea turned into this story, so if you do not like this pairing I do not really think you should read or maybe try it. Due to my habit of never really choose between my favourite characters, there is going to be many different love possibilities, I will let you discover by yourself. ;) (That was a lot of talking)

I do not own Detective Conan, if I did, it would not be called a fanfiction.

I am not a native speaker and it is my first big project, so please tell me if there is any grammar, punctuation, spelling mistakes, organisation...

Comments and advises are of course welcomed :)


Reach for the Moon

By

ShihoShVG

Prologue

On a night of strong wind, the exhausted lawyer Tomas Compton was trying to stay awake by pouring a cup of coffee. The strong aroma slowly filled the room and Compton leaned against his chair, waiting. The seconds ticked untiringly in the growing darkness while the windows occasionally shook with a rattle. The lawyer's eyes progressively closed, letting the ticktock echo in the silence. A bip reverberated, quickly followed by the release of a mechanism. Compton jumped awake.

"How could I sleep at such a crucial moment?" He looked at the clock which showed half past six and his hands shaking nervously, reached the table where a metallic box had just opened, red digital zeros shining on its screen. After 16 years of worries and energy to protect the box's secret existence, he could finally know its content and fulfill his task. 'I've got the bad foreboding that it'll be harder than expected' He took out a thick envelop from the little safe and started reading the documents.

A familiar cursive handwriting appeared on a used-to-be white paper.

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My dear friend, Tomas Compton,

As programmed, 16 years have passed since my death. I should first thank you for all what you have done for me; all those wasted years protecting my secret documents in spite of the death sentence that awaited you if discovered….

The man continued the letter dreading the future words.

...This is my last request, I wish I could have done it myself but I have failed. I know that it is going to bring you even more troubles adding to the one you have already endured, but please pass on my will and the following documents to my daughters. You already know that extreme tact is required to ensure security and success….

...Here ends my letter since my time is limited. I thank you again for your loyalty and sincerely apologize for bothering your successful life...I seek forgiveness for the atrocities committed by my family. I leave in hope that you will succeed and that light will shine in a better world.

Yours sincerely,

Elena Miyano Gavendish

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Compton quickly regained his composure and quickly flipped through the other pages which contained a set of title deeds for a house, a manor and a company in L.A. and England. The lawyer also found that the deceased had hoarded a large sum of money in her Swiss bank account.

"Wow, it's like Harry Potter. The girls are going to be very rich..."

He stopped with two ID photos, one showed an ebony-haired girl smiling innocently and with sparkling black eyes. The other one was a young girl with fiery blond hair who smiled awkwardly to the camera as if her face hardly ever executed this movement. Tomas, despite knowing that the first was the eldest, still felt that the younger sister was much graver. Her eyes, of a deep sapphire blue were something called bewitching but inside, lied an already settled melancholy and mystery as if she had experienced a lot 'Just like her mother's'. Compton read the inscriptions at the back of the photos and froze.

"Miyano Akemi, (12) aka ...MA SA MI HI RO TA, directed towards external relations.

MIYANO SHIHO, (4), future codename...already?" he exclaimed. "Sherry, directed towards chemistry"

He sighed and massed his temples. "Why! Why, why!" he shouted angrily. "What am I going to do?"

Two weeks ago, Masami Hirota...no, Miyano Akemi, was declared dead of suicide after committing a million dollar robbery in Tokyo which he hardly believed to be the truth. As for Miyano Shiho, the whole world knew that she graduated from Massachusetts's Institute of Technology at sixteen which gave her a place in the Guinness Record book and millions of offers from the world's most powerful companies. Of course she declined them to disappear in Japan and was probably working on terrible researches for the syndicate, quickly forgotten by the newspapers.

'Now, the last Miyano is nowhere to be found. I don't even know if she's still alive and still in Japan. After all, it's been 2 years... And even if I found her, how would I give her the information without endangering ourselves? ...Suicide you say? I could at least do it in place of thanks since she gave all what I have now.'

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The rain heavily splattered on the pavement where a livid teenager lied. It was late, the streets were dark and empty. The boy coughed and tried to stand up, in vain. His head was burning, all his senses seemed obliterated. Feebly, he managed a few steps but stumbled and fell. A car hastily braked, doors opened with muffled voices. Footsteps approached the child who slightly opened his eyes to see a pair of black high-heels in front of him. Then, the shoes' mistress squatted towards him and gently touched his forehead. "You've got a terrible fever, Boy", she said with a soft voice. "Jack, take the child inside and call a doctor."

"Yes, Milady."

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The next thing he remembered was waking in a cosy bed. Tomas Compton, which was the name of the teenager, slowly opened his eyes. He still felt a little dizzy but the fever was gone and caught a glimpse of blue and grey. Tomas waited a moment for his eyes to focus, now he could picture a nice bedroom: there was a tall oaken wardrobe, a marble fireplace, a desk, chairs, bedside tables with a glass of water and a tube of aspirin on it, an old golden mirror hanged on the wall and everything was dimly lit by a small morning light coming from the chink between the orchid and turquoise curtains and small shutters. The room, despite its simplicity was very neat and elegant, filled with a comfortable atmosphere which felt like home. Tomas was in complete beatitude and did not realise until a voice erupted from his right.

"You're an early riser, Boy." Compton nearly bounced out of bed with a shriek.

'A ghost!' He wondered how a human could stay so long without being noticed. 'Even he was ill, he could still see. No?' The teenager turned his head to where came the voice and met an aquamarine gaze. Tomas could not see well since she sat in the darkness but guessed that she was pretty and he was already under her charm, he asked in a hoarse voice "Who are you, Madam?"

"Oh, call me Miss Gavendish, Madam sounds too old, I'm only seven years older than you, Tomas."

The boy stiffened at the illustrious name, she was the Countess Elena Gavendish! The one who went to study in America at the early age of five and graduated from the best universities at seventeen! She was the pride of town and yet people barely knew her, like a myth crossing between the false and true. He left his reverie and deduced "So... I'm at the Crimson Manor?"

"That's right, Tom," She replied with a smirk. 'Yes, you have no wonder of how you're right. Crimson like the roses and trees, but also like blood and death of screaming souls tortured by devils' she thought sadly.

"By the way, how do you know my name?"

"It's written on your ID card. Don't worry, we informed your grandmother while you were asleep," she replied.

"What time is it now?"

"You had fever during the whole night of Wednesday and slept for a day. Now it's Friday half past six in the morning," the women said while looking at her watch. Miss Elena stood up and put a thermometer on his forehead "How do you feel now? Your temperature has regained normal, you'll be able to go home, back to your grandmother in a few days," she stated with a relieved smile.

Tom could now see her face lit up under the pale sun rays and her smile sparkled in the dark. He was stunned and stared for more than acceptable. The countess lifted an eyebrow "Is there a problem?"

"Hum..." his face red as a tomato. "It's just ...hum...you remind me of an angel...with the sun shining on your head ..."The boy said shyly.

To his surprise, the lady burst out laughing, her crystal-clear voice echoing in the room, but it slowly took a sad tone, slightly sob-like. She quickly returned to a normal composure "If I was ever called an angel... it'll only be a hell angel." A knock on the door stopped her musings. A middle-aged man wearing a black suit entered with a ringing cell phone.

"Your phone has been ringing for a while, Milady," he explained nervously.

"Thanks, Jack," The woman quickly grabbed the phone with a frozen look. "Yes?" She answered coldly, her face unreadable. Startled by her swift change of expression, the boy and butler pricked up their ears to catch little they could hear "Oh, really? I never thought you would miss me..." a sarcastic smirk appeared on the lady's lips. "I'm in England; I had things... to check... Paris, Saturday?" She repeated, caught off guard. "...Well, it'll be precipitated...I'll be there...OK,... Boss," she sighed while hanging up.

"Are you leaving again, Milady?" Asked a worried Jack.

"Yes, it seems my Boss found something for me," She declared with unusual glittering eyes.

"Jack, could you book a flight for Paris, Saturday morning?"

"Immediately, Milady," He exited the room.

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A freezing draught suddenly brought him out of the warm bed and plunged him back again into the present. The lawyer stood up and closed the window with a grumble. "Let's start searching for basic information on Internet," He sighed not very convinced himself, then smiled:

'A path of a thousand leagues always starts with one step.' Chinese proverb

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To be continued.

What do you think?

REVIEW :)

By the way, I have chapter 1 ready but I have lots of homework and am very slow at typing so do not hope too much for quick updates. Same for the next chapters since my imagination is not really productive, but maybe. We never know 8)