"I'm sorry but I can't allow you to swallow that." Conan stated sardonically, closing the lid on his watch with a sharp little 'snap!' He turned his attention back to the small vial in his hands and peered curiously at the small pill inside. He wondered if he'd guessed right but there was-as they said-more than one way to skin a cat. He was would have been perfectly content to look at the contents under a microscope. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Sherlock swept up the small bottle the cab driver had dropped.
"So that was why you were so sure we'd get out of this." He stated, inspecting the other bottle. " How did you figure out which was the good pill and the bad?" Conan looked up at the driver again before he set the pill on the table.
"Misdirection." He shrugged. "It's a simple trick. You draw attention to one thing to distract from another."
"And? What was he distracting from?" The older detective pressed.
"He pushed a bottle towards you, he wanted you to think in terms of it it was a bluff or not. The truth is it would be bad if he got the bottles mixed up right? So it becomes a question of would he keep the bottle in his left pocket or right pocket." Sherlock nodded in approval and set the bottle he had in hand back down.
"You were so sure of your answer-why'd you bother to knock him out."
The question irked Conan and he had to think a moment to figure out if he'd heard correctly or not. Shame on Sherlock Holmes for asking such an obvious question.
"Because you can't corner someone with deductions and then let them commit suicide. That's no better than murdering them yourself." He stated, voice a bit cold as a few uncomfortable memories were brought to the surface of his mind. Sherlock stared down at his small companion-perhaps he wanted to say something as his mouth opened but the moment it did the doors burst open and the police barged in, guns out and pointing.
They lowered them the second they realized there was no danger and the female officer-Sally-swooped down on Conan and pulled him out of the room and back outside. She asked him some very text book questions and after determining that he wasn't hurt or traumatized she took to giving him a pretty severe scolding.
She was saying something about not getting in cars with strangers and how Sherlock was dangerous but he wasn't really paying attention, he had enough on his mind after all and just went through the motions of an apology, having placed himself on autopilot up until Holmes had ventured over. Immediately, Conan ditched the officer and dashed over to the older detective. Making it clear to her that he hadn't listened to a word she said.
"What's wrong?" He asked, noting the strange look on the detective's face. Sherlock looked down at him, considering him and finally he glanced back at the building he'd just come out of.
"Jeff Hope." He started, Conan mentally noted that the name was very similar to Jefferson Hope. "He succumbed to that aneurysm." He finally stated. Conan's eyes widened a bit and he looked back at the building.
"Oh." He shouldn't have been surprised. It happened in the book-Jefferson dying. But there was still a small sting at the fact he'd tried to save the man from taking his own life only for him to die about twenty five minutes later. It was inevitable, he tried to tell himself, there was no way to stop it from happening eventually. And yet-and yet-!
"You care too much, don't you?" Sherlock's words brought the smaller out of his own thoughts again and he looked back up at him.
"...Aa." Conan admitted, surprised by his own words. He knew it was true. He got so wrapped up in the people involved with his cases and he just cared so damn much. He'd do anything to keep anyone safe-even if they'd try to kill him-he'd done it before-he felt confident he'd do it again. He lived his life always trying to do the right thing-believing that there never needed to be a reason to save someone's life. He held true to those morals, but it made life hard and hurtful and it was just easier to desensitize himself from the death that seemed to surround him. He tried to emotionally detached himself from the situation as best as made possible.
The case had been solved-he'd saved a life. The life was lost anyway. It blindsided him. He couldn't help but wonder if there was anyway the anesthetic had sped the death up. Was it his fault? He felt a hand on his head and refocused his attention on Holmes.
"There was nothing you could have done." He stated matter of factly, clearly insensitive to the fact that Conan was struggling with the news. "You shouldn't let it affect you."
He shouldn't. Shinichi knew that Sherlock was right. There was no way to change what happened- and he knew better than anyone that death just sometimes happened. Murder or otherwise, it was just when it was a murder at least he could blame someone. He thought briefly about insisting that he didn't-that he wasn't but that would have been an obvious lie.
"There ya are Kudou!" Hattori bulldozed his way over to the smaller, looking irritated. Not as irritated as Conan though as Hattori still couldn't get his name right. At least he was speaking in Japanese which lowered the chances of anyone else noticing the slipup.
"Hattori." He responded with a flat and highly unimpressed tone. Hattori didn't seem to notice though as he didn't wince or apologise. Perhaps that was best. Better to not draw attention to the mistake.
"How dare ya go an sneak inta that cab by yerself-couldn' wait fer me t' join ya?"
"You were too slow and he'd have noticed if you got in the car." Conan rolled his eyes. "Where's Watson?"
"I coulda hid in the trunk." Hattori grouched at his friend before looking over his shoulder at the question. "Talkin' t' the police. Hadn' even noticed he forgot tha' cane o' his yet." Hattori stated as Sherlock slid off to talk to his new flatmate. "Heard Hope died." Heiji stated bluntly once they were alone.
"Aa." Conan stated, not really wanting to rehash the same subject though he knew Hattori would treat it with the same sensitivity that Conan did. After all, he and Hattori regarded human life about the same. Important and irreplaceable.
"Guess there wasn't much to be done. Doesn't suck any less though, does it?" Conan took in a breath, he wouldn't say so out loud but Hattori was exactly right. He couldn't stop it and he knew that, but it still sucked. "Wanna go find the others or wait here a minute longer?"
"I'll give it a minute. Holmes and Watson have things to discuss anyway." This was why Hattori was his best friend. He just got it-got him in the way no one else did. Sherlock, in time would likely know him better than anyone. But it was different with Holmes because he couldn't consider the older a friend-they just weren't on the same level and that was the reason Shinichi respected the other so much.
"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything." A voice behind them caused both boys to jump and spin around on the defense. Conan's eyes narrowed sharply and Hattori did what Hattori Heiji did best-he yelled.
"You again!?" Conan frowned at that outburst and looked up at Heiji to ask what he meant. The man offered a very familiar condescending smile and Conan gave him a very sharp scan before he relaxed-obviously deeming the man a nonthreat. Hattori remained on the defensive.
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock and John had come back over, Sherlock looking particularly annoyed. The man offered the same smile to the approaching consulting detective.
"As ever, I'm concerned about you."
"Yes, I've been hearing about your concern." Sherlock stated, a bit snippy.
"Always so aggressive." The man stated before moving on. "Did it never occur to you that you and I are on the same side?" He sounding perhaps a touch annoyed at Sherlock obvious hostility towards him.
"Oddly enough... no." Sherlock responded sounding slightly more annoyed than the other.
"We have more in common than you'd like to believe." The man stated. "This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer. …And you know how it always upset Mummy." He added. It seemed to strike a cord, at the very least.
"I upset her? Me?" Holmes asked. "It wasn't me that upset her. Mycroft." Heiji froze at is clicked he'd made a big mistake as to who he thought this guy was and why Kudou hadn't felt threatened.
"Wait-Mycroft!?" He repeated. "Ya mean he isn't-"
"Ahem." Shinichi quickly interrupted before Hattori could say something stupid.
"Isn't what?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow, watching the small child closely.
"Ah… nothing." Heiji backed out, casting his best friend a look.
"No, no wait. I've missed something here-what have I missed? Mummy? Who's mummy?" John spoke up, the last one out of the loop.
"Mother. Our mother." Holmes informed him, looking back to Mycroft. "This is my brother, Mycroft." He introduced to the only person who was unaware of the relation. He turned back to his brother. "Putting on weight again?"
"Losing it, in fact." Mycroft responded with a quirk of his lips before he change the subject. "Sherlock, we need to talk about the Children." His gaze shot to Conan to Hattori before landing back on his brother.
"You mean, he's your brother?" Watson asked incredulously.
"Of course he's my brother." Sherlock waved it off.
"So he's not-" John started.
"Not what?" Sherlock asked.
"Well… I'm pretty sure Heiji and I both thought he was some sort of criminal mastermind or something." Watson explained. Conan raised an eyebrow at Hattori who just smiled sheepishly-guilty as charged, apparently.
"…Close enough." Holmes stated.
"For goodness sake." Mycroft started, apparently they had been through this before. "I occupy a minor position in the British Government."
"He is the British Government." Holmes corrected. "When he's not too busy being the British secret service or the CIA on a freelance basis." Watson looked over at Hattori who merely shrugged.
"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does for the traffic." Holmes said dismissively before strolling away from the others. Conan took one last look at the others before he trotted after Holmes. Only Heiji and John stayed behind a little longer.
"So, when-when you say you're concerned about him-you actually are concerned?" John asked.
"Yes, of course." Mycroft nodded, a little surprised by the question.
"It actually is a childish feud?" Watson looked at Heiji who just shrugged.
"He's always been so resentful. You can imagine the christmas dinners." The elder Holmes answered, watching the younger continuing to walk away with the small boy at his heels.
"Yeah…" Watson started to say but soon revised his answer. "No. Oh God, no." He paused, thinking the situation over. "I'd better, erm… Hello again." He said to the lady standing behind Mycroft.
"Hello." She looked up from her phone and offered a small 'nice-to-meet-you' smile. At this Heiji started to walk off towards the other two.
"Yes, we met. Earlier on this evening?" John offered. The woman attempted to think about it before smiling again.
"Oh."
"Okay. Goodnight." Watson gave it up as hopeless and rejoined the other three.
"Ah! John." Holmes greeted. None of them had gone very far, probably because they were both waiting on the third. "We were just discussing what to get for dinner-Chinese sound good to you?"
"Fine, perfect." Watson nodded, glancing at the two boys. "I suppose they'll be staying at Baker Street with us? Don't have anywhere else to go, do they?"
"Don't worry, Heiji can sleep on the couch and Conan will fit at the end of the bed." He offered.
"Oi." Conan spoke up. "Why not just invest in an air-mattress?"
"I only meant for the night." Sherlock stated, keeping a stride ahead of the other three. "Will that be a problem?" He turned to Watson.
"What are you so happy about?" Watson asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Moriarty." Sherlock answered. Conan and Heiji both stopped for a half a second and exchanged looks before just smirking at one another.