this is the second of two chapters posted today, so make sure you've read the previous chapter first!
It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way:
"MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,–"
several months later:
Shinichi had been returning to the study after getting some juice from the kitchen (he'd wanted coffee, actually, but if Ran got wind of him having that at this hour she'd have his head, and she actually bothered with checking his remaining stocks of coffee grounds so she could tell) when he heard the knocking.
Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, he walked closer to the front door – and yes, there was most definitely someone knocking repeatedly on it, despite the fact that the doorbell right next to the front door was working perfectly fine the last he'd heard it.
A quick check of the peephole didn't show anyone there, but Shinichi opened the door anyway –
"Finally, I've only been knocking for, oh, the past ten minutes, I was just about ready to conclude that they'd gotten you too – why'd you need to install your doorbell so high up anyway?"
– and blinked, looking down, because the owner of that voice was an oddly-dressed kid who was managing to sound even more sarcastic than even Shinichi himself had been at that age.
That was an achievement, considering who he was, but also beside the point.
…what was someone who looked like an elementary schooler doing alone on his front porch at this hour anyway, Shinichi wanted to ask.
Which was when the boy said "Good evening, meitantei," in an extremely familiar diction that was nevertheless a whole ten years too young, and the pieces fell into place in Shinichi's mind with a near-audible clunk.
" – know you're probably not to believe me about this," the kid was saying, looking for all the world like a twin of the seven-year-old version of himself, just dressed in an oversized blue shirt that was so long it almost reached his feet.
(A man's dress shirt and pants, Shinichi realised, only with the sleeves and pant legs folded up until they were about a third their original length. Right. Of course.)
He took a moment to sigh at the utter circus spectacle his life had somehow become before stepping back from the doorway. "You might as well come in, this'll probably take a while."
Kaitou Kid – because that was undeniably who he was, except for being actually kid-sized this time (ha ha, Shinichi thought dryly) – cut himself off mid-tirade and blinked up at Shinichi in surprise. "You believe me?"
Shinichi did a quick mental review of Kid's jumbled ramblings in the last three minutes. "This man you mentioned… long blond hair, monochrome outfit, crazy killer eyes?"
Kid nodded warily. "You've met him?"
"I can do you one better, but I don't really feel like standing out here all night," he answered, ushering the kid inside and locking the door behind him – they really needed some other name for Kid, Shinichi thought, even if it wasn't his real one.
(Though a name could wait until he got some better fitting clothes first… perhaps his own clothes from elementary school would work?)
Kid followed him back to the kitchen, swinging himself up onto the counter – the movement surprisingly graceful considering his recent change of size, but then again his physical abilities had always been that of a gymnast's – and Shinichi handed him the untouched glass of juice before going to start a fresh pot of coffee, because he definitely deserved it by this point.
"I know who he is. Well, what his codename is, anyway," Shinichi said as the heavenly aroma of coffee began to fill the room, though he didn't think Kid's sudden and avid interest had anything to do with that. "And I think I know how we can fix your situation. Or try to, at the very least."
Kid drank half the glass of juice in several gulps and set it down on the counter, frowning at Shinichi. "You know about this drug?"
"I know who probably made it, at least." The coffee was still dripping, but Shinichi poured whatever there was into a mug anyway. "But I need to make some calls first. Get yourself some food if you're hungry, there's a loaf of bread and peanut butter in the cupboard."
There was the sound of the stool being shifted, then a cupboard opening and closing as Shinichi walked towards the library.
(He'd been busy at a school event today and hadn't planned on attending the heist, but from what he recalled of the newspaper coverage it had started relatively early in the evening. Somewhere in his rant, Kid had mentioned that he'd run into Gin right after the heist, and assuming that he came straight here afterwards – it was no wonder he was starving, really. Probably exhausted, too, but given his night profession Shinichi didn't think Kid would have much problem functioning even on sleep deprivation.)
Shinichi picked up his handphone from where he'd left it on a table, and dialled a number that he'd since committed to memory. It rang thrice before someone picked up.
"There's been a situation," he said without preamble – there wasn't a need for names, really, since the chances of anyone else having this number were virtually zero. (Emergencies only, meitantei-san, that particular message had said, in another one of the self-destructing texts that appeared mysteriously on his laptop or phone at random intervals. And rest assured, I will know if you even try to trace this number.)
There was a pause before Shiho answered. "What kind?"
"Remember the mouse you mentioned? And your theories about possible effects on people?" He'd found that hard enough to believe back then, and even now with the evidence in front of his eyes… well, once you eliminate the impossible and all that, but this was really stretching it a bit, honestly.
"So it is possible, after all," she murmured half to herself, her spike in interest clearly audible even over the phone. "One of your acquaintances?"
"You're not going to believe this," Shinichi said, to absolutely zero reaction from his audience. "It's Kaitou Kid."
That, at least, garnered some amusement in her reply. "And I suppose he wants the antidote for it?"
"Yes, I'd like that very much, thank you," Kid answered, because he'd somehow snuck in when Shinichi wasn't looking and clambered onto the wingback chair behind him.
(Shinichi would've been more alarmed, except that he'd exhausted his ability to be surprised for the day, and sneaking around was Kid's profession by name, after all.
As it stood, he settled for feeling mildly offended, though if Kid had planted any bugs on him… suffice to say, someone was going to get thrown out of the house, apparent seven-year-old or not.)
"No promises, but I'll see what I can manage. I do owe you quite the favour, after all." Shiho paused. "Until then, you can stay with your Shinichi-niichan, right?"
Shinichi's squawk of protest went unheard under Kid's cheer of "Shinichi-niichan!" with sufficiently childlike enthusiasm that Shinichi couldn't help but wonder if he was going to find the sugar jar half-emptied. Or perhaps the transformation had actually affected Kid's brain more than they'd thought.
"Traitor," he hissed over the phone back at Shiho, who only chuckled in response.
(…coffee first, hellions later, Shinichi decided, and went back to the kitchen for another mug while Kid ambled along behind him, chattering excitedly.
It was going to be a long night.)
END
and there you have it – the single longest continuous piece I've written (and will probably ever write, to be honest) in any fandom. which is not very long by most standards, but I'm actually quite proud of myself for sticking with it, and hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have!
summary quote again pilfered from ASiB, with apologies to ACD and the dubious justification that there are parallels between them, actually. far be it for me to pretend that I'm any sort of Holmesian myself, but in defense of Irene Adler (later adaptations aside) the character as written by Doyle is more than competent, much as she does not appear onscreen herself – she is first outwitted by Holmes, yes, but turns the tables on him, gets what she wants, and leaves none the worse for it. now, if only she'd appeared more than once...
