Heads up guys. I've not seen read the manga Case Closed for quite some time now. Because of this, some facts related to the show could/will be incorrect. Please tell me if they are. Then I can fix them. :) But please ignore time issues, I'm creating my own time flow for this story.

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That is all.

Conan's P.O.V

Prologue

While living with Ran, I had steadily made her father's fame as "Sleeping Moore" grow to a point where even people outside Japan had heard of his amazing deductions. That is why it should have come to no surprise to me when his started receiving fan mail and invitations to gatherings. Truthfully, the idea of his getting fan mail had occurred to me on numerous occasions, but invitations? It was as if people were asking him to come just so he was there when they killed a family member to gain story publicity. Idiotic way of getting caught if you ask me.

Mr. Moore was, of course, too busy to sort through the large piles of letters and Ran had homework, so the task of reading and organizing said mail fell to me. The bills and important papers went into one pile for Ran to see later. In another pile went useless ads and coupons to stores we did not frequent, which would be thrown away. And finally, the largest, the fan mail.

A surprisingly large number were invitations to dinners and family gatherings that just screamed premeditated murder. Some were as expected, from crazy fans and people who sounded relatively stalker-ish. Luckily, never in any of these was I mentioned or included. Thank goodness.

The Black Organization has become suspicious of Mr. Moore and myself, so I have been trying to keep out of sight and out of mind for some time. Ai is still living with Dr. Agasa and trying to create an antidote. She, even more than I, has to stay hidden because of her connection to the group. Much to my distress, I have had a tail for quite a few weeks now, and they are getting closer and bolder each day.

I don't know if they are connecting me to Ai, my poisoning at the fair, or just want to use me against Mr. Moore through kidnapping someday. In any case, both Ai and myself carry a pocketknife now. We even carry the knives to school but keep them well hidden up our jacket sleeves or in the false bottoms Dr. Agasa made in our shoes.

I don't know how much longer I can stay with the Moore's. Despite Ai's progress, we know very little about the side effects of the drug. Trying to hide the pain I feel when changing back to my high school self is bad enough, but both Ai and I have noticed we get sick a lot more than we ever have before. Usually, it is just a cold or fever, nothing to serious, but the weight loss that comes with the fevers on our small bodies is cause for concern. Also, it's been almost three years now, and I have not grown in height nor do I look any older. Ran is becoming suspicious. I may have to stage a return of my "overseas parents" and move away, for her safety and mine.

One day in late October, I was sorting through the mail after school like usual, when I came across something unusual. It was just like all the others, addressed to Mr. Moore with our address and a stamp like any ordinary letter. What was different was the paper. I recognized its expensive texture and designs to be like what my father used to write to an important sponsor or benefactor. This type of paper is used by the rich upper class.