If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Synopsis: It's illegal to clobber someone over the head with your drinking glass just because she's embarrassing you by playing love guru.

A/N: An earlier version of this series was posted in 2015 before it was deleted. I decided to edit this and put it up again, now that I've gotten a new account.

Sunlight streams through the glass walls, casting the interiors of Poirot Café in a hazy warm glow. Caught up in the lethargy of the late afternoon, its customers seem to lack the energy to raise their voices above a murmur.

Shinichi peers over the edge of his glass, a little annoyed that he must strain his neck to do so, and tries to deduce why on Earth Suzuki Sonoko of all people would be sitting opposite him now.

It wouldn't be so surprising if it were Ran. The moment any of the kids gives away any sign that something's troubling them, she'd gladly lend a sympathetic ear. But this is Sonoko. Kids are little more than nuisances to her. Her weekends should be spent shopping with friends, or checking out the cinema, or…fangirling over a Kaitou Kid forum (ugh, why do those things even exist?), really. She would never willingly sacrifice an afternoon just to…stare at him with an unnerving look?

"So, Conan-kun," Sonoko begins. "I've figured you out."

There is a look of grim determination in her face, like she's marching into war. This does not bode well. A serious Sonoko is like a humorous Haibara. It does not bode well for anyone on the receiving end – him, in all of such instances.

Conan meets her gaze. It is not as if he is anything more than a grade schooler puzzling about why the friend of his sort-of foster sister would suddenly deign to meet him alone…and so kindly bought him a drink, too, while neglecting to get any beverage for herself. Nothing to worry about safe for the homework he's left unfinished during his midnight reading binge, and nothing to hide aside from it.

Nothing at all.

"It must have been so difficult on you, keeping this from her all these while. But really, you can't hold on to your secret forever! Especially with you living together. She's bound to find out sooner or later, you know…"

Conan's heart thumped wildly in his ribcage for once, twice, a third time. And relaxes.

For a moment, he had been so paranoid as to think… But that is extremely improbable, if not impossible. The fancy straw and sweet beverage before him all indicate that he is still nothing more than an annoying kid to her.

Besides, this is Sonoko.

If she's somehow guessed THE secret, there's no way she'd be so civil and…bizarrely kind. She would tell Ran immediately, no questions asked. Then there would be a lot of yelling involved. Possibly some violence on her part, too – that is, if Ran hasn't already gotten her hands (or feet) on him by that point…

Ah. Not really a thought he wants to dwell on.

So Conan only looks at her with wide eyes, and offers a confused, "I don't understand…?"

It's not even entirely faked. He really doesn't see what she's going on about.

Her face takes on a downcast expression of…is that sympathy?...apparently having mistaken his question for poorly attempted denial.

God. If he thought serious Sonoko was disturbing, sympathetic Sonoko is so much worse.

"Oh, Conan-kun, did you really think no one would ever see through your pretense? You are so obvious sometimes, you know. You act the cute child before her, but that's not what you really think, is it? I've seen the way you look at her when you think no one is watching…"

"Um…"

The last time the three of them had gathered, he was just trotting along with them on a shopping trip. But surely Sonoko had been too busy gossiping with Ran to notice how he was looking at her?

"Well? Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

Comprehension dawns, all of a sudden. With a disbelieving bout of horror, he sees the conversation lying in wait in perfect clarity –

Sonoko looks into his eyes, her voice as gentle as it ever gets. "You're in love with her, aren't you."

Conan glares at his lemonade, refusing to so much as dignify her question with a response.

Mistaking the gesture for shamed avoidance, Sonoko reaches out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stomps down the urge to shove her hand away.

"Ah, kids nowadays, they mature too fast, that they do. Really, it's not such a big deal. I mean, I can understand. Your parents are not around, and Ran is so caring towards you. Who wouldn't love her?"

Ugh? No thank you. Take your understanding and down it with this lemonade I never asked for. Please.

"And you've always been quite smart for your age, too. Wise beyond your years and all that. Small wonder you've started thinking of her as more than just your older sister…"

…What. No. I mean yes – but no!

Conan wonders if the lemonade is intended as an elaborate symbolism. Something related to a clichéd saying regarding citric fruits and juices and life.

Amuro (Furuya, bites the reminder in his mind) is clearing a table at the far end of the counter, having returned to work after the customary greetings. He straightens and moves over to the next table, only an aisle away from their own, shooting them a polite smile as he does.

He can't hear them at that distance, can he…?

"But what must it be like, to hide your feelings and pine with such pain and sorrow, for fear of hurting the object of your affections…" And Sonoko's voice, growing steadily louder through the speech, quivers at that, as if she is cast in the spotlight for a tragic soliloquy of love and despair.

It's illegal to clobber someone over the head with your drinking glass just because she's embarrassing you by playing love guru. Illegal. Illegal, immoral, wrong, and way too many witnesses...but if the perpetrator is underage –

…Is it just him, or is this place getting quieter?

"I am not judging you or anything, of course. The rigid anarchy of society has no bearing when it comes to such a human sentiment! So even if…"

Conan catches the bemused look Furuya is sending their way.

Oh, god. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"Sonoko nee-chan?"

"Hmm?"

"People are staring."

She swivels her head around, catching Furuya in her sight as well. "Oh," she lowers her voice slightly, flushing.

Conan's a bit surprised by how effective it is, to be honest. But then, Sonoko seems to have a rather specific type – namely, the type that's courteous, gentlemanly, and a lot more dangerous than they appear.

"Sorry – it's just so unfair on you," she goes on in a hushed tone – and there are real, honest-to-god tears brimming in her eyes now, because it's not like the gods don't hate him enough already – "That detective otaku sent you to watch over her for him while he's away, didn't he?"

Conan stares at her, dumbstruck. "What — er, I…"

And that is how her ill-devised relationship counseling turns into an impromptu tirade for the next ten minutes.

"Oh, the nerve of him! Asking you to do this while he goes half-way around the world buried nose-deep in those mysteries and never spares more than a minute to call her…Who knows what kind of girls he's meeting up with now?"

"…Yeah," Conan agrees, easily.

A part of him is grateful that Shinichi has taken the heat off Conan's problem for the moment. He nods at Sonoko, smiles, and pretends he isn't clutching the glass so tight that the tips of his fingers have gone white.

"You are better than him anyway, always keeping an eye out for Ran and saving her from danger…"

Conan grimaces. She has a point. Not that he is sure whether he should be flattered, guilty, or even more grateful for it. So she might as well not have one at all, for all the good it does.

"But listen to me on this, Conan-kun. I'm not going to tell Ran about your feelings, and neither should you. Maybe you feel that she is the love of your life right now, but trust me on this – sometimes it's just not meant to be."

He looks at her earnest expression, and suddenly the irritation and bitterness from before desert him, leaving only a strange weariness behind.

"Why?"

"You know how long she's been waiting for Shinichi. They've already been through so much together before you came into her life. You don't understand it yet, but when you grow up a little more…find someone around your own age, one of those detective kids maybe? You'll find someone who's really made for you, and see for yourself what true love is like –"

"You don't even know if he's coming back."

And the words slip out before he can stop them.

The entire matter had seemed simple, at first. Investigate the organization, take them down, get the formula to his antidote. Just another case in his career – challenging, high-profile, but nothing beyond his capability.

But then weeks turned into months and he is still nowhere closer to the heart of the truth. The fog only seems to thicken with every step, extending the date of his return ad infinitum, and every lie he has made in the meantime have only rolled up, one upon another –

Sometimes, he feels more real as Conan – as the grade-schooler with his little ring of detective friends and loving foster family – than he does as the foolhardy high school detective who got his head bashed in months ago.

He breaks the eye contact, pries his fingers off the glass, one by one, and places his hand carefully under the table. The lemonade sits untouched before him. Water beads and trails down the side of the glass.

Sonoko does not reply for a long moment. It must be his turn to shock her into silence, he thinks, vindictive.

He looks up, and she is still looking at him, with an expression that is now a mixture of sadness and slight surprise – and for a moment he cannot bring himself to face it.

"Of course he will come back," she says simply. "So if you truly love her, Conan, you should wish her happiness. You have to let it go."

Shinichi downs the lemonade in favor of replying. He coughs a little as the cold clutches around his throat.

"…Thanks," he mutters after a moment. "For the drink."

"Give it some thought, alright?" She smiles at him. "Well, I gotta go. If you need to talk about it, come and find me."

He smiles back, not trusting himself to reply again, and watches as she exits through the glass doors, her steps light as if a great burden has just been lifted from her.

Furuya approaches to clear his glass, sunny smile still firmly in place. Envy fills him for a moment. The man has four jobs, at least half of which he is keeping from one or both of the others, and never seems to falter the least for any of it.

But maybe to most other people, Conan just looks like a smartass kid with too much free time on his hands. He should be the last person to be blind to how deceptive appearances can be.

"Not to be rude," Furuya lowers his voice to the side, with the fake-courteous tone that people usually take before they are about to say something rude anyway. "But isn't she a little…too old for you?"

Oh.

So that was what it sounded like.

Half a dozen comebacks fly through his mind. Perhaps under other circumstances, he would have tried to keep up Conan's pretense, just for the sake of it. Just to err on the safe side. Furuya does not know his identity. This, more likely than not, is yet another experimental tug on the web of lies he has spun.

But at the moment, he's just not in the mood for mind games anymore – or for pretending to be something they both know he is not.

"Shouldn't you be asking her if you are really concerned?" He asks drily.

"Ah," Furuya says, smile widening. "There's no cause for concern then, I take it?"

"Not at all," Shinichi says, shooting back a sunny smile of his own to match.

"Would you like another drink? Bill's on me, of course."

"No, thank you."