Merry Christmas!

I hope you'll like this chapter. Thanks for the reviews, they warm my heart, and special thanks to my beta, zairoon. I'm glad you guys like this fic.

Happy New Year!

Chapter 3 (Kogoro in a bar II)

My name is Mouri Kogoro, Detective.

The happy chime of the Blue Parrot's doorbell resonated within the empty bar. Kogoro pushed his sunglasses up his nose by their bridge and, hands in his trench coat's pockets, moved to sit in front of the counter. There was no one on the other side. They were for sure taking a break in the back, since there was no client, and the doorbell would warn them if someone came in. Kogoro nodded, satisfied with his deduction.

As you see, my sharp mind is trained to always be observant. I like to think of myself as an equal to Kogoro Akechi, Edogawa Ranpo's famous fictional detective, whom I share my name with. It is not a coincidence.

A newspaper was splattered on the next stool. Kogoro glanced at the headlines. They were, of course, mentioning him and his latest case.

We, talented detectives, are always busy: consulting for the police, taking in our own clients, fighting against crime. That is why we need a happy place where we can drink in peace. This bar…

With an elegant gesture, he took out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips before lighting it with his Zippo. He rested his chin on his intertwined fingers.

… is still not my happy place. This is only the second time I bless this Billiard bar with my presence. The first time, I was called in by a client who sought my higher intellect and deductive skills for a case. She works here as a bartender.

The door leading to the backroom slowly opened, and Kogoro held out a breath. He quickly straightened forward and took a quick puff of his cigarette, closing his eyes. He didn't open them, preferring to relish on the smoke and the sounds – soft, light footsteps, easily unnoticeable if you didn't pay attention, stopping in front of him. Before they had a chance to speak, Kogoro reached blindly for their hand above the counter.

Yuzuki Fuiki, 26. She's in love with me – hence my presence here tonight.

"Would you grace me with your presence for an evening around dinner?"

"Uhm, you're not my type, sorry."

Kogoro blinked. The voice that answered him was husky, modulated, and nothing like the pretty bartender he knew. And the young, messy-haired male teenager standing in front of him was definitely not Yuzuki Fuiki, 26. The cigarette fell on the counter, forgotten. The teenager didn't break eye-contact, instead raising his eyebrows, seemingly amused.

Kogoro jerked backwards, his sunglasses crooked on his nose. "What the– who the hell are you?!" he barked, unconsciously wiping his hand on his trench. "Where's Yuzuki-chan?"

"Kuroba Kaito, magician," smirked Kuroba, shuffling a deck of cards produced from nowhere. "She took her day off. Family emergency or whatever. I'm just watching over the bar while Jii-chan runs a quick errand. You want something or not?"

Kogoro facepalmed.

Hang on, let me start over.

He cleared his throat. "A Gimlet, please."

They call me…

In a sudden puff of smoke, a cocktail glass filled with green liquid appeared in front of him. Kogoro nearly jumped out of his stool – but he kept his composure, only shooting a dark glare at the teenager.

… Sleeping Kogoro.

Kogoro took a sip, eyes closed, taking in his surroundings with a deep sigh.

The classical notes of the soft jazz playing in the background soothes my heart, along with the chime of the doorbell. The low, orange lighting gives off a casual yet professional atmosphere – two adjectives that could as easily describe me.

Conan climbed into the next stool, all wide eyes and chirpy voice. "I want orange juice!"

The bar neighborneighbour…

"Wait what?" With a sense of déjà-vu, Kogoro opened his eyes and shot a surprised look at the child. "What are you doing here?"

Conan gave him a large, innocent smile, missing the slight, nearly imperceptible pause Kuroba made at his sight. "Ran-neechan is at school and I didn't wanna be by myself at home. Besides, I need to make sure Occhan doesn't flirt with anyone! Ran-neechan said so!"

"You were here the whole time? Aren't you supposed to be sick or whatever? Oi, don't tell me you're faking it to get out of school."

"Occhan, it's really not good to drink now. It's not even noon."

"Here," Kuroba chimed in with a soft voice, putting a blue straw in the juice glass before pushing it towards the child.

Conan thanked him and grabbed the glass with two hands. Kogoro piqued on the slight change of the teenager's voice–compared to earlier when he introduced himself, his tone was lowered to a heavier register. The thought, however, quickly disappeared from his mind as well as his previous question when he processed the words. A vein throbbed on his forehead. "Get off my back, brat. You think the great Mouri Kogoro receives orders from a kid?"

Kuroba Kaito's eyes widened and he blinked, mouth slightly open. His entire expression breathed surprise. Kogoro loved causing those kinds of reaction. "Mouri Kogoro? The detective? Did Jii-chan call you here?"

"Who?"

"The owner of this bar." Kuroba shook his head. "Nevermind. Just thought he finally decided to call a professional for the weird things that had been happening lately around here."

Conan, who'd been silently watching their interaction while sipping his orange juice, raised his head, his interest piqued.

"What kind of weird things?"

.

.

dark shadows creep within the cover of darkness, only to be illuminated by the light of deduction. A peculiar case calls for me in the Blue Parrot! Is the murder related to the impossible thefts?

hHe perceives the one and only truth. Looks like a child, but has the intellect of an adult. His name :name: Detective Conan!

[Meitantei Conan and Magic Kaito both belong to Gôsho Aoyama.]

.

.

If there was one thing Conan hated about being a child –- –beside the weak immunity system – it was the impact his little form had on adults – or, more precisely, the lack of it. It was no secret that children were often ignored. Talked down to. Patronized. He's eight, he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Before Conan, before Tropical Land, before the black org., the entire police force was hung on his lips, the media in the palm of his hands. That was namely what made the transition from Kudou to Conan so frustrating :frustrating: being interrupted, dismissed and/or talked over to.

(of course there were some other things like having to repeatedly lie to your childhood friend and constantly being on the lookout for shady org. members, but this, this he hated.)

It was different with the bartender.

When Conan first saw him, he had to make an abrupt halt and stare mouth gaped. At first sight, the teenager was an exact replica of him (– his old self, he thought bitterly a fraction of second too late )– but upon closure inspection, there were a few differences. Eye colour, hair style, bone structure. Conan squirmed in his chair, uncomfortable. They could easily pass of as brothers.

Curiously, it wasn't the resemblance that struck Conan the hardest. He couldn't quite put his finger on it – something in the way the doppelganger treated him, maybe? He didn't have to repeat his order, or gesture with his arms to have the other's attention. It was instantly on him. Which was unusual, especially with a celebrity like Occhan right next to him.

(for the first time around a stranger, he didn't feel small or overlooked.)

That was what came to his mind when the messy-haired teenager turned his eyes to look at him. Indigo eyes, Conan noted and blinked owlishly, sustaining eye contact while the other began to elaborate.

"Stuff disappearing, mostly," Kaito said, absentmindedly folding a white napkin. (and where did that come from?) "Keys, phone, glasses; one memorable time, my sock." Conan frowned. "Don't ask," the teenager added, shaking his head. "Whatever you put on a table, if you turn around, be it just for a sec, it's gone."

"Just a thief," Kogoro diagnosed, finishing his cocktail, bored. "Put on some cameras. Case closed."

The bartender blinked and turned his head to the older detective, as if he just remembered his presence.

"We tried," he replied, a beat too late, "but the camera also got stolen." The napkin in his hands began to take the shape of a – was that a dove? "And it can't be a thief, the things disappear while we're in the room, and it only happens after closing hour, usually when we clean the place up. No one's around, save for me and Jii."

"You work here?" Conan asked.

And there it was again: that look. Sparkling. Interested. Drinking in his form. Scanning him like he was a mathematical formula that needed to be deciphered. Conan cleared his throat and, with his two hands, pushed his empty glass towards the teenager.

"No," said teenager shrugged and he removed the straw before putting it back in after refilling the glass with juice. "I hang around here a lot since Jii-chan's a friend of the family, and sometimes, I stay to help. Clean up and stuff. I've been told I'm good company."

Conan opened his mouth but was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. Three pairs of eyes turned to the new comers: a group of four people, shortly followed by an old man carrying a silver suitcase.

The group moved to sit at the furthest table from the door, while the man made his way behind the counter, immediately greeted by a cheerful "Jii-chan! Welcome back!"

"Bocchama," Jii replied, setting the suitcase on the counter, right beside where lay Conan's arms. The small detective eyed it with a curious look, innocently sipping his juice through the straw.

The suitcase was suddenly removed from the counter and when Conan raised his head, he met Kuroba's eyes, seemingly amused. Kuroba winked at him and put the suitcase on the floor, out of sight.

"Kaito," the teenager protested above the loud "Ooï! Bring some champagne over here!" of one of the two men in the group. He moved to get two bottles from the top shelves on the wall. "Kuroba Kaito, that's my name. You don't have to call me Bocchama anymore, you know."

He brought the platter, balanced on one hand, to the table, before letting himself drop to sit on the stool next to Conan, body turned to the little detective and an arm casually slung above the counter. He tightened the kaki flannel tied around his waist, and swung his right ankle above his left knee.

(his entire body language screamed interest. Conan didn't know what to make of it.)

"Bocchama, I need to talk to you–"

"Jii-chan," interrupted Kaito interrupted. "This is Detective Mouri Kogoro and his… son? Sorry, I didn't catch your name, kid."

"Edogawa Conan!" ," the shrunken detective chirped.

"He's not my son," Kogoro grumbled, shaking his cocktail glass by the tip. "Just a freeloader. Pour me another one of those gimlets."

Jii-chan seemed to lose some colour as he moved to prepare a new cocktail. He shared a look with Kaito, a look Conan's curious gaze didn't miss. There was something cautious in their silent exchange, something guarded, something they both didn't want the two detectives to see.

"Asa-chan, you're incorrigible," laughed loudly the woman in glasses behind them, pulling Conan back out of his thoughts with a start. He looked above his shoulder towards the group of four.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" the second woman replied, her long blue electric nails tapping the wooden table. "I'm worth more than a couple of cheesy lines and a box of chocolate. Anyway, I don't care, I have Isao-kun, right?" She leaned towards the man sitting next to her and planted a kiss on his cheek, ignoring or simply not noticing his brows bumped into a scowl. She pushed her chair back and stood up, grabbing her Fusae purse decorated with small gingko leaves pattern. "Gonna freshen up. Be right back."

"Hang on, I'm coming too," the first woman said, following her.

Conan followed them with his gaze before they disappeared in the . They were particularly loud for a group of four. He turned his head back to his glass, only to remark that Kogoro was in the middle of a heated discussion about the supposed thief with the old man.

"I'm just saying, this is a simple case of theft. Put up a trap or something."

"It always happens after closure hour," the old man uttered.

"So?"

"Soooo," Kuroba stepped in, dragging the single syllable., "Bboth doors, entry and back, are locked. No one's around except me and Jii-chan here. If a person picked the lock, sneaked in and stole something while we're in the room, we'd immediately notice, trust me."

Conan hummed, thoughtful and scanned the bar. It was strange. Where did the thief come from? And how did he steal so efficiently?

"Toilet," he decided, hoping off his stool and straightening his black sweater with white strips before he made his way to the single door labelled W.C.

(he ignored the indigo gaze he could feel following his every move. It wasn't a hostile look, but it still made the hair in the back of his neck stand up.)

He bumped into the two women on their way out. They seemed gloomy, but Conan didn't dwell on that. He was more interested in the hole in the door. A hole the size of an adult man's fist. Conan eyed it for a second before closing the door. He leaned against it for a second, just the time to recover from the nausea that had washed over him when he'd hopped off the stool.

He was getting worse. He hadn't managed himself these last two days, wandering about Kototoi Bridge and then Haido City Hotel. He knew he had to go take it easy on himself– some rest for a few days and he'd be back on his feet. But honestly? He couldn't care less about his health right now.

Conan sighed and scanned the little bathroom. Two stalls, one sink, a dusty mirror hung above it. In the right corner of the wall, there was a narrow, squared window. Two inches by two. It was open. Conan eyed it for a second before dismissing it and going in one of the stalls. There was no way someone could come in by there – hell, he couldn't, much less a fully grownfully-grown adult.

He sighed and flushed the toilet, moving to wash his hands. He had to jump three times to reach the sink; the water flooded his hands. He just pulled a considerable amount of tissue from the dispenser when he heard a loud crash immediately followed by a scream.

Conan rushed to the bar, only to see a woman on the floor, surrounded by three horrified friends. The woman with glasses was apparently the one who screamed – she was cupping her mouth with her hand, tears prickling in the corner of her eyes.

"Asa!" screamed the man, Isao, all traces of scowling gone.

He made a move towards the body, but stopped short when Kogoro screamed: "Nobody moves!

"Call an ambulance!" he ordered to Kuroba. The teenager was frozen in his seat, face drained from all colours, looking physically sick. His gaze was fixed on the body. "Oï!" Conan ushered, tugging on the other's jeans.

The gesture seemed to pull him down: he blinked and turned his glazed gaze to the shrunken sleuth. "Right, right," he whispered before pulling his phone out – a black flip phone with a white clover strap.

The old man, Jii, approached them and put a hand on the teenager's shoulder, forehead puckered with worry. "Bocchama."

Kuroba gently shoved him off without looking up from the screen. "It's alright."

Conan stared at the weird interaction with interest. There was a story somewhere in there.

"Call the police, too," Kogoro said gravely, crouched beside the woman's body, two fingers on her pulse point and a serious expression on his face. "Nobody moves until they get here, understood?"

"You fuckin' kiddin' me?" Isao barked. Conan noted his strong western accent. Behind him, the woman in glasses was sobbing in the second man's arms. "That's my girl laying there! Who the fuck are ya anyway?"

"You never heard of me?" Kogoro turned his trench-coat collar up and cleared his throat. "In front of you, in flesh and bones, stands the famous–"

.

.

"KudouShinichi-kun?" was the first thing that came out of Megure's mouth when he crossed the threshold of the Blue Parrot.

Conan panicked for a grand total of 0,8 seconds before he noticed the Inspector wasn't looking at him but rather, at Kuroba.

The teenager, who recovered sometime in the fifteen minutes it took for the police to arrive and was now staring at the spectacle from behind the counter, blinked, seemingly surprised to be [adressedaddressed at. ] He pointed his finger at himself, interrogative. "Me?"

Conan looked between their two confused faces and decided to step in.

"Kuroba-niichan looks a lot like Shinichi-niichan, ne?"

"Conan-kun! Wait, that means…" Blasé, Megure looked beside him, only to meet the grinning face of Kogoro inches apart. "Of course."

"Keeeibu," the sleeping sleuth complained, scratching the back of his neck. "I have nothing to do with what happens around me."

"Shinigami," Megure simply said and taped his shoulder before stepping forward, eyeing the body being examined by forensics. "What'd we got here?"

"Asa Kiamichi, thirty-two years old. She was a corporate lawyer. Death by poisoning."

"It's murder?" the blond man paled, captioning the attention of the inspector.

"And who are you?"

"We're–we're friends of Asa-chan," the woman stammered, pulling out a purple handkerchief and wiping the corner of her eyes.

"I see, please introduce yourself and tell us the exact nature of your relationship with the victim."

"Why the fuck?" the previous man–Isao–barked. "You suspectin' us or somethin'?"

"It's mere protocol," Megure stated. "Please cooperate."

The man frowned but was apparently satisfied with the answer. He reluctantly introduced himself: Henmi Isao, thirty-five, business accountant. Then came the tall man with shoulder-length dirty blond hair. Nagano Hiroya, thirty-five, vendor in a pet store; followed by t. the woman in glasses, whose introduction was hindered by her silent sobs. Shizue Kanemaru, thirty-two, paediatrician. The first was the victim's fiancé while the two latter were good college friends.

"She wanted to introduce us to her fiancé," Shizue clarified. "That's why we met up today for lunch. Then she insisted we went dress-shopping, before we ended up here for a drink. Oh god, she wanted me to be her bride's maiiiiid," she buried her face in her hands, letting out a cry.

Nagano patted her back. "I can't believe she's gone," he whispered., eyes glazed.

An almond smell, Conan picked up, squatting on all fours beside the body. Cyanide. Wait, what's that? He leaned in closer to inspect a purple red dot on her cheek. Lipstick. She must've smudged some while putting it on. Conan scanned the area around him. Her purse was laying on its side a few feet further, her things half-scattered on the floor. Keys, wallet, iPhone. Struck with a sudden idea, Conan slipped towards it, pulled the sleeves of his sweater to cover his hands, and quickly went through her makeup bag.

It was then that he felt a pression pressure on his collar. He was suddenly lifted from the ground and a too-familiar bark resonated in his ear. Conan put a hand in front of his mouth, the sudden movement making him sick. Fortunately, the need to throw up disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Brat! What do you think you're doing? T'Taku, always running around sticking your nose where it doesn't belong." A sheepish laugh escaped the little detective's lips as he was being carried and dropped on one of the stools in front of the counter, under Kuroba's amused gaze. "And stay there!"

Kogoro walked away grumbling, and Conan resumed a serious had a pretty good idea of the way the poison was applied, – but he couldn't figure out the identity of the murdererfrom that. Not to mention, where did the poisoned item go?

Sometime in his train of thought, his eyes ended up on the teenager standing behind the bar. Chin resting in his palms, elbows on the wooden surface, Kuroba was watching two men from the scientific police trace the body's contour with white tape. His eyes were glazed. .

"Kuroba-san?"

The young man looked at him, curious. "Mmh?"

"You were here when it happened, right?" Kuroba nodded. "Can you tell me the exact circumstances? From when Kiamichi-san and Shizue-san came back from the bathroom?"

"Mmh," Kuroba hummed, cocking his head to the left., eyes focused on the right corner of the ceiling. "Well, they both regained their seats. Talked a few seconds. Kiamichi-san looked a bit pissed, so Isao-san poured her some champagne and she drank it. Then she collapsed."

"Nothing else? Are you sure?"

"Erm, before Kiamichi-san sat down, she kissed her boyfrien– is that it? Is that important?" he said, noticing Conan's sudden tilt.

"She kissed him? How?"

"Erm, like this?" Kuroba leaned over and planted a light kiss on the boy's cheek, before resuming his previous position with a smug grin. "But like, I think she went for the lips first and Isao-san avoided it, so it landed on his cheek. Look, you can still see the spot."

Conan, a bit red, cleared his throat and looked at the direction the teenager was pointing at. And, indeed, there was a clear trace of purple lipstick on Isao-san's cheek. "Oh," was all that left Conan's mouth.

"Yeah. What does that tell you, little detectivetantei-kun?"

Instead of answering, Conan let his gaze slide over the teenager's face. "How would you do it?"

Innocent blinking. "I beg your pardon?"

"If you had to poison someone in public, how would you do it?"

"I'm not a criminal. I don't know the most efficient ways of murdering someone."

"Then why do you carry a gun so often?" Kuroba stopped short and lifted his head, mouth slightly open. A smirk stretched Conan's lips. "Your hands," he said, replying to the silent question. "There are calluses on the second phalanx of your right index finger and on the palm of your left hand." Conan tilted his head, provocative. "Ne, what's in the suitcase, Kuroba-san?"

"Well aren't you a clever little detective," Kuroba acknowledged, inspecting his palms. The smile previously dangling in the corner of his lips widened into a full grin. "But you're wrong."

Conan blinked. "Eh?"

"I'm not a criminal." His hand plunged into Conan's space and for a second, the sleuth thought it was going to cup his cheek, but it reached behind his ear before pulling back, a coin trapped between the index and middle finger. Kaito made and unclenched a fist and a second coin appeared, this time between his middle and ring finger – then a third one. At the fourth fist, the three coins disappeared, replaced by a bright yellow rose.

"I'm a magician!" he exclaimed.

Conan stared.

"Well," Kuroba nudged him, as if he was expecting something. In front of Conan's blank look, he sighed and shook the rose between his fingers. "Take it!"

"What are you, Kaitou KID or something?" snorted the detective, nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Don't be silly, I'm way cooler than KID." In a puff of smoke, the rose disappeared. "Then how about I answer the questions you are dying to ask me? I can see it in your face," he explained, remarking Conan's surprise.

"The little window in the restroom, is it always open?"

Kuroba blinked, like he was expecting something else entirely; he was quick on his feet though, Conan could give him that. "That little thing? Yeah, it's busted. You can't close it. I promised Jii-chan I'll fix it a while ago but, you know." He made a vague gesture with his hand. "Procrastination."

"What about the hole in the restroom's door?"

"Yeah," was the simple response he got. "I break a lot of things."

"And those thefts? Can you tell me more about them? What exactly has been stolen?"

"Erm. Like I said: Jii-chan's car keys. My watch. My sock. Singular. I took my shoes off for a magic trick and my dumb friend spilled something on them; I took them off, so she could clean it better, but when she turned her back to get her handkerchief from her purse one of them was gone. Just like that. I had to go home with only one sock. It was a bitch." Kaito shook his head. "Also, that camera we set up. Pouf." A puff of smoke. Conan coughed. "Gone. Well, it wasn't a camera per se… just my phone I propped against a wall on camera mode."

"That phone?" Conan inquired, pointing at the black flip phone abandoned on the counter, next to where Kaito's elbow rested.

"Yeah. I found it on the floor – like what exactly happened there? did the thief grab it then change his mind? Did it walk itself over there? Creepy." Conan smirked. "What? What? Did you find something? You just did that grin. You found something didn't you. Was it something I said?"

"I didn't find anything," the detective lied, because he wasn't going to tell this stranger that, he, an eight-year old boy in appearance, just cracked the entire case.

(and why was Kuroba so damn observant anyway?)

He hopped off his seat and walkeddid a few steps, drinking in his surroundings. Forensics were scattered around the room, the three suspects seated at a table, looking dejected and grief-stricken. A bit further was Jii, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. Leaning on the Billiard table, eyes closed, hands in his trenchcoat's pockets, was Kogoro. Conan blinked.

"Keibu-dono," the sleeping sleuth said, tone assured. "I solved the case."

"What? Really?" the Inspector replied, mirroring Conan's exact thoughts.

"Yes. It's really simple. The murderer is– " he made a show of spinning around, his trench whirling behind him like a cape, and pointed his finger at the victim's fiancé. "– you, Isao-san!"

"What the FU–"

"Wait," ordered Megure ordered, raising his index finger and, silencing the suspect's cry of outrage.

Pause.

"Wait for what?"

"Your little dance, crazy mumbling and the posture."

"My what?"

"That's the golden rule. First thing you learn in police school nowadays," explained a man in the background to his shy partner. Both belonged to the scientific police according to their jackets. "You don't listen to anything Mouri-san says until he does those three."

Okay, time to put an end to this joke, Conan thought, blasé. He flipped open the lid of his watch.

"Let's cut the crap," demanded Kogoro, one little dance, crazy mumbling, and The Posture later. "Like I said, I solved the case."

"Like hell you did! I didn't fucking murder Asa!"

"Calm down, Isao-san, that was a joke. I like to do that."

"Then who did it?" inquired the inspector.

"I'm getting to that. First, let me explain how the murder went down. We know Kiamichi-san has been poisoned, correct? Did you find out how?"

Megure looked at one of the member of the scientific police. "We found traces of cyanide on the victim's lips, and the glass she was drinking from. We suspect the poison was on her lips first, before it contaminated the glass. How it got there, we have no idea. No poisoned item was found, keibu."

Behind the chair, Conan smirked into his bowtie. "You won't find it. It disappeared."

"Say what?"

"Shizue-san, when she got back from the restroom, Kiamichi-san was not in a good mood, am I right? Could you tell us why?"

"Eh?" The woman adjusted her glasses by its arms. "Well, she lost her favourite lipstick. She put some it back on while I was in the stall, then when I came out and it was her turn, she claimed she put it on the sink before going in. But it wasn't there, – and it didn't roll on the floor either. We eventually stopped looking and went back."

"Lipstick. That's how the poison got to her lips."

"We didn't find any contaminated lipstick," Megure pointed out.

"Like I said, it disappeared."

Kuroba made an "oh. Oh," sound that made Conan lean over the side of the chair he was hiding behind to glance at him – he quickly cowered behind Kogoro, though, when he met indigo eyes looking directly at him.

(he broke out in a cold sweat. that was impossible, wasn't it? he was well hidden, and the spotlight was currently on the sleeping detective. it was probably a coincidence.)

"What does that mean?"

"A bunch of things has been disappearing lately," replied Kuroba. "Jii-chan's car keys, my watch. My phone changed place when I tried to catch the thief in the act. The same thing happened with the lipstick, right?"

"Exactly." He marked a pause. "Car keys. Watch. Kuroba's phone. What do these three things have in common?"

"Their colour," realized Kuroba realized. "They're all black. My socks were black too, the day one of them was stolen."

"The lipstick was also black," Shizue added, confused.

"Could you get to the point?" Megure urged, annoyed.

"Isao-san is not the culprit, because Kiamichi-san kissed him."

"But he avoided it," the magician remarked. "Doesn't that mean he was aware of the cyanide's presence?"

"Wow, excuse me!" Isao hissed. "I was just pissed at her! She wasn't gonna lemme have any strippers on my bachelor party! I mean come on, a stag night without strippers?"

"Furthermore, if Isao-san was guilty, after avoiding her kiss, he would've immediately wiped it off. It's faint now, but you can still see the trace of Kiamichi-san's lipstick on his right cheek. If my deduction is correct, analysisn analyse would come off positive. Which raises the following question: why would he willingly let a dangerous poison such as cyanide on his skin for this long?"

"True," admitted Megure. "But everything you just said didn't answer a thing. Who did it? Where's the lipstick? How did they make it disappear? And what does the colour black have to do with all this?"

"Interesting questions indeed. Conan!"

"Haaaaai." Conan appeared from behind the chair, an innocent smile painfully stretching his mouth. In front of fourteen pair of eyes, he walked to Kuroba who was eyeing him curiously from behind the counter and stretched out a hand. "Can I borrow your phone, please?"

The magician didn't move a muscle, elbows resting on the bar and palms supporting his chin, but the phone previously in his front pocket appeared in the little sleuth's hand in a puff of smoke. Conan refused to look impressed. Instead, he walked back and put the device on the table, backing away a few steps. Ten seconds went on without anyone saying a word.

"Aaaan' what exactly are we waitin' for?" asked Isao.

On cue, a white-winged bird flew in from the hole in the restroom door, causing Shizue to let out a surprised yelp. In a noisy fluttering of wings, the bird hovered above the table and proceeded to lift the flip phone up by its clover strappy. It only made it as far as a foot of faltering flying, however, when it decided it was too heavy and let it drop. The phone landed on Conan's hand.

"Hiroya-san," he began with the most childish voice he managed. "You work in a pet storestore, right? This bird is so pretty! Can you tell me its breed?"

The blond man looked reluctant to do so, but he spat, fists clenched: "Kasasagi."

"Soû," Kogoro's voice confirmed, attracting all eyes back on him. Conan took the opportunity to plunge behind the chair. "Kasasagi, otherwise known as magpie. They are known as arrogant, kleptomaniac birds. For the past two weeks, this one has been sneaking in by the little busted window in the restroom and grab every black item in sight."

"What a bitch," Kaito commented.

"I thought magpies only steal shiny stuff?" the Inspector frowned.

"That's merely a false rumour. Magpies can steal anything. This one has been trained to only seek black things. The car keys, the watch, the sock – that was all training for the moment it will need to steal the lipstick. Right, Hiroya-san?"

The blond man's eyes widened.

"Hiroya-kun?" Shizue repeated, horrified.

"E-Evidence!" the blond man sputtered. "You suspect me because I work in a pet store? Where's the evidence?"

"If you find the nest, which is probably in top of one of the utility poles behind the Blue Parrot, you'd find your evidence. The lipstick, along with the other stolen items, should be there. If I'm correct, your fingerprints should be on it, Hiroya-san." ". You applied the poison this afternoon, in the mall. When Shizue-san and Kiamichi-san were actually shopping, they left you with their things, didn't they?"

"Wait a sec," interrupted Isao, brows furrowed. "I was the one holding Asa's purse. Hiroya was watching over Shizue's."

"Did you leave her bag unattended for a moment?"

"Well I went to pee–"

"There you go. Nagano-san used that small time frame. No time to put on gloves."

"Find the nest," Megure ordered to two agents just as Hiroya Nagano, dejected, fell back on his chair and buried his face in his hands.

"I loved her!" was all he offered as an explanation, voice strangled with emotion.

Soon, the nest was found, along with all the stolen items ("Oh my god my sock!") and the culprit was handcuffed and led to the back of a police car. Conan stepped up from behind Kogoro's back , and looked thoughtfully at the door, hands buried in his jacket's pockets. He had to wait for Kogoro to wake up, as usual. It usually took three to five minutes not including the deduction show, even though Conan noticed that he was waking up faster and faster recently. He was no doubt beginning to develop a resistance. He had to talk to Agasa about that, he noted absentmindedly.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt a sudden warm surround him and a chest against his back. The detective jumped and turned his head, only to meet Kuroba's face from a profile view, a few inches from Conan's cheek. He opened his mouth but didn't utter a word that two large hands grabbed his wrists, pulled his hands, much smaller, out of his pockets and began to carefully wipe them with a wet handkerchief.

"You went to the restroom after those women, yeah?" the magician mumbled, focused on his task. "You never know."

Conan simply watched as he wiped his palms, each finger and between. "You're worse than Ran-neechan," he muttered, embarrassed.

"Yeah?" Kuroba finished up and with an impressive sleight of hand, the handkerchief disappeared. "Who's that? Your sister?"

"Un, " Conan nodded, turning to face the crouching magician, eyes locked on the floor. "Kinda."

He looked up and–oh. Oh. Conan blinked. Kuroba was merely inches away, and his differences with Kudou Shinichi had never been more emphasized than from this angle. Conan saw a smooth, pale skin, punctuated by a faint trace of an old scar on the upper left eyelid. He saw disciplined eyebrows, eyes colour of amethyst, an angular jaw digging down his cheeks. He saw ruby lips; full, wet lips stretched into a shit-eating grin and revealing straight, white teeth.

(Conan didn't know if he was supposed to notice all of those details. but hey, he was a detective. his job was to observe, compartmentalize and store.)

"Oï, brat!" Kogoro shouted, pulling him out of his thoughts. Apparently, he'd woken up without Conan noticing and was already by the door, ready to go. "Come on, we're going home."

With a last glance to Kuroba, Conan walked away, but skidded to an abrupt halt on the bar's threshold. He turned around and shot the magician a shy "Bye-bye."

Surprise flashed over Kuroba's face, quickly morphing into – something as he waved. Conan didn't dwell on his expression, having to break into a jog to catch up with Kogoro.

(fondness.)

"Good job on that case, Occhan," Conan congratulated once he caught up with the detective. He slowed down to walk beside him. "I would've never thought of the thief being a bird!"

"Well what can I say, I'm great." He barked a laugh and ruffled the boy's hair. "Don't worry kid! Someday you'll learn!"

Conan let the words wash over him, amused. Off all the things he hated about his current situation, letting Kogoro take the credit for his deductions wasn't one of them. Not anymore. The shrunken sleuth shook his head and buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket – only to stop short on his tracks, bug-eyed.

In his left pocket, neatly pressed, lay a thin, thornless, bright yellow rose.

.

.

A rose of the same colour tucked behind his ear, Kuroba was sat seated at the stool previously occupied by the little detective, gaze staring at nowhere in particular, glazed. Jii was concerned.

"Bocchama?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

Instead of answering, Kaito leaned forward and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms.

"Fuck," he let out in a shaky breath, voice barely a whisper.

Jii could clearly see the trace of a micro-smile dangling in the corner of his lips.

His brows furrowed in worry. "Bocchama, do you think they know?"

"Knowing him, he probably suspects something, he just doesn't know what." A fond smile stretched his lips. "What a noob."

Jii frowned. Since when was Bocchama so familiar with the Sleeping Kogoro?

Kaito noticed his confused expression and laughed. "It's not going to be a problem, don't worry."

Well, then. Jii would've normally protested, said they shouldn't be careless, but there was something he needed to do. Something important. He cleared his throat. "Bocchama, we need to talk."

"Oh no," the magician replied with false alarm. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"You are not well."

Jii watched as Kaito paused for a second, before looking at him with exasperation and sighing. "Jii-chan–"

"No, listen," the old man interrupted. "Please," he added in a soft voice because this was Bocchama and he couldn't bring himself to be harsh on him to save his life.

Kaito stopped short and stared, so Jii took the opportunity to continue. "I myself have been feeling a little down lately. It happens every time this month comes around for eight years now, and it is normal. After all, it is in this time of the year that Toichi-sama had been–" He–" He stopped. It was too , painful.

"Jii-chan… I'm sorry, I didn't think – how are you doing?" Kaito asked, looking at him with concern.

Jii's lower lip trembled. The boy was struck with grief over his own fatherand he still was worried about him. It was too much for Konosuke Jii. He broke down in tears, falling on his knees and wrapping his arms around his Bocchama'slittle master's waist. "Bocchama! You are too kind!"

Kaito patted his head twice, embarrassed. "Jii-chan, hey, come on. Stand up."

Jii didn't listen, instead letting go of the boy and resting his weight back against his heels. He wiped his eyes with a white handkerchief, before looking up to Kaito. "Bocchama," he sniffed. Kaito was gazing down at him, eyebrows raised. "You shouldn't let the grief alter your common sense, do you understand? I know we haven't had any leads recently regarding Toichi-sama's murderers and theyToichi-sama's murderers are still running out and about. But please, do stay put. For now, there is nothing you can do except continue being Kaitou KID."

There was a pause, and Jii honestly, genuinely thought he'd got his point across and began to relax. .

But then.

Then, a twisted smile stretched Kaito's lips and he looked above his right shoulder, to the counter where an empty juice glass was sat. "See, Jii-chan," he slowly said. "That's where you're wrong."