Interlude II: Atypical Connections
…Do I really have to say it? Fine…*heaves a sigh* I do not own. Go bug Gosho.
An old newspaper, almost two years out of date, crinkled and creased in weak protest as pale, shaky hands folded it with an unusual amount of precision for such an early hour, the dark ink smudging across the front page. The faded headlines stood out in a bold contrast to the rest of the print and two very blue eyes trailed across them unseeingly for the thousandth time that morning, staring down at the yellowed paper and familiar words blotched by tears.
Those trembling hands abandoned the paper settled on their owner's—a young man no older than nineteen—lap as he reached for the delicate porcelain teacup filled with a rich, aromatic liquid. Long, spidery fingers wrapping around the pale blue-painted handle as he slowly brought it to his soft, bloodless lips, heaving an almost appreciative sigh before taking a sip of the heavenly liquid it contained.
A sharp knock on the cherry finish of a set of large oak doors permeated the silence of the morning and Shinichi looked in the direction of the door with a bored expression, wondering who would possibly be disturbing him at three o'clock in the morning and only reaching one conclusion. He didn't really care.
And yet, as the pounding moved from the wooden frame to the ornate glass window set beside it, Shinichi found himself setting his coffee down on the surface of the kitchen bench and shuffling towards the door with a strange tugging at the back of his mind. It was almost as if someone, from so very long ago, was telling him that he should get up and answer it—begging him to appease their insatiable need for answers.
He supposed this was what people meant when they said curiosity killed the cat and—with a wry smile that, to be perfectly honest, was more of a frown than anything else—slowly opened the door. He couldn't have denied them for much longer anyway; both his visitor and the thing pulling him about by the hand were far too persistent.
It was, to say the least, a bit of a surprise when he found a rather beautiful young woman with long auburn hair and luminous crimson eyes standing there on his front porch, the silvery glow of the moon illuminating her slender form and making her shimmer almost like a mirage.
"Do you want something Ojousan?" He blinked as she raised an incredulous eyebrow at him, glossy pink lips curling with bemusement. "I'm sorry if I sound rude but it is unusually late. Please come in." He stepped aside to let her pass, wincing at the steady clack of her high heels as she stepped onto the hardwood floorboards, before closing and locking the door behind him. "I'm guessing that this is about a case of some sort?"
She turned to give him a smirk and, twirling a lock of his hair around one of her nimble fingers, whispered seductively, "Indeed it is Kudo Shinichi-San. Indeed it is."
Musings Of A Meitantei
Mayhem, Chaos, Disorder, Anarchy and Common Misconceptions
- Self-Fulfilling Prophecy: Interlude II: Atypical Connections