mayfield_rpg | Case: 016

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Case: 016

{{ →!Action | 915 Bilko Boulevard | Early-Early Morning in the Kitchen }}

[ He knows pretty much anyone who knew he had this idea would object which is why he's up so early. He's brought in the milk but instead of just dumping it down the drain like he usually does he's set it on the table and watches it apprehensively. He has to do this-he has to know. But there's no way to tell what kind of milk it is without... drinking... it. Just the thought alone is enough to churn his stomach. But he won't get anywhere if he doesn't take risks. ]

..is there really no other way to do this?

[ He pours grabs the bottle and pours a very small glass which he makes a disgusted face at before taking it in both hands. 'Just... a little right?' He takes a deep breath and gulps down some air before starting to take a drink-managing to swallow very little of it.. He immediately spews it out though-coughing loudly as he wipes his mouth, traces of blood on his hand and in the spewed milk. ]

Well.. could have been worse. [ Cough-cough-hack ]

{{ →!Phone - Early Morning }}

[ Cough-hack-cough ]

N-ne! [ Cough ] G-Good Morning Everyone! S-Sorry [ Hack ] to bother you so early- [ Cough-cough ] but I was wondering-[ Cough-hack ] if anyone has a microscope I could borrow? [ Cough-Cough ]

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[ Conan follows after him but stops at the entrance way to slip on his red tennis shoes and gets back up in under a minute, and out the door. ]

[Given the hour, Sherlock is still in his robe, pullover and pajama bottoms. He did slip on some slippers before he had made his way downstairs, but he's not exactly dressed properly. He had the samples he had taken earlier in his dressing gown pocket.

He drives Conan to the pharmacy.]

When we get there, I'm going to want to run some tests. I should probably take a blood sample, but I'm not a phlebotomist.

[It might hurt, Conan.]

[ Is that going to be alright? The drones might not let him in if he's not properly dressed... ah well. ]

Don't worry. I've been through a lot worse than having blood taken.

[Sherlock is out of the car and comes around to the other side.]

Play along. Remember, the drones think you're seven. This isn't about treating you like a kid.

[He puts his arms out to pick Conan up.]

Hai, hai.

[ He lets out a quiet sigh and lifts his own arms to be picked up. It's not like he isn't used to being carted around. ]

It's for the best.

[Sherlock picks him up.]

Play dead... or at least seriously ill.

[And rather than carrying Conan on his hip, he all but cradles him. He rushes by those few around and makes for the back, where all the equipment is located. Once they're in back, he sets Conan down and grins like a kid in a candy store.]

Oh brilliant! I was right! Old fashioned Chemstist had everything they needed in back. Back in the day when they did so much more than just push pills.

[ Conan is scarily good at playing the part of a scared and seriously ill kid. He's way too used to acting like an actual seven year old. ]

Of course they would. ...These kind of places are supposed to be kept cool though, right?

[ So then why does he feel like the heater must be on? He'll just wonder off to check on the thermostat. ]

[That wasn't good. Sherlock wasn't a doctor, but that couldn't be good.]

Conan, come here, please.

[Sherlock dug around until he found a thermometer. He held it up.]

We're going to take your temperature.

[He hands the thermometer to Conan, but then goes over to the microscope and slides to prepare samples that he had taken earlier.]

[ He abandons the search for the thermostat and moves back over to Sherlock, wiping his chin as he does because, damn it. Now he's sweating. There's no way they'd keep a room like this at such a high temperature so then why- ]

[ Throb ]

[ The all too familiar that his heart's about to burst hits him like a ton of bricks and his hand of course flies to his chest. By all outward appearances it might seem like a heart attack. ]

[ 'Why this reaction? Is it possible...?' ]

[Sherlock has some unusual abilities. One of these is to watch others when he's using a microscope. He sees Conan's change. In an instant, he's at Conan's side. Conan... looks like he might know what's happening to him.

Still he is trying to calm and get the kid to lay down. Because right now? Conan is only seven.]

Conan, you need to lay down. Do you know what's happening to you?

[ He can really feel the heat building inside and the sensation that his bones are melting. But he can't change back now-if he had known that this would happen he never would have- ]

N-ne-is there [ He tries to suppress another throb. ] change of clothes nearby?

Change of clothes? HOw the hell can you worry about that right now?

[If worse comes to worse, Sherlock has his bathrobe.]

B-because-[ He knows that he can't fight the transformation. He's tried and failed every time. However, he can stall it. And that's exactly what he intends to do. ]

[ There a bathroom back here right? There has to be-or at least a room he can escape into. He can't stay here. He can't risk someone walking in. Besides, he's about to out grow everything he's wearing. ]

[ He holds in another painful throb as steam starts to slowly rise from his body. At last! He spots a supply closet and makes a dash for it. Gotta get out of the open. ]

[Sherlock races after him. But a moment too slow, he tries to push the door open, but Conan must be leaning against it, it is difficult to move. He cries through the door.]

Conan! Answer me! Tell me what's going on!

Just-

[ But it seems he's fought the Transformation as long as possible as the final and most powerful throb that throws him to the floor, letting out a final cry of pain before everything goes temporarily black. ]

[That last cry, gave Sherlock the motivation to shove open the door. But the sight that welcomed him... Wasn't one Sherlock expected. The clothes were Conan's. They were all in tatters now, from his rapid growth. But before Sherlock was a young man. About... seventeen. Seventeen! Damn, he thought Conan only had the mind of a seventeen year-old. He didn't realize that Conan had actually been seventeen.]

[Sherlock crouched next to the young man. He gently moved the fringe out of Conan's eyes. He was out of his depth - a feeling he didn't have often and one he really didn't like.]

Conan?

[ The young man just remains out for a few moments longer as the steam that was coming off of him dissipates.]

[ Very slowly, he starts to wake up. ]

Edited 2012-07-14 04:47 (UTC)

[Sherlock doesn't know if he should touch him or not, so for now he just observes.]

[ He may be slow to wake up but he sits up quickly and immediately examines his hands. ]

[ 'The real thing is always better.' ]

Ah-

[ He notices Sherlock. ]

Sorry. I didn't have enough time to warn you.

[Sherlock raises an eyebrow.]

Clearly.

[He looks between them, sheds the bath robe and holds it out for Conan. He turns his back.]

You'd... better get out of those rags before they start cutting off your circulation.

Huh? Ah.. right.

[ He'll get changed as quickly as possible. ]

Ah-I guess I should tell you- My real name is Shinichi Kudo.

[Once he's changed Sherlock moves to sit.]

Is that what you want me to call you?

Only while I'm in my original form. It has to be kept secret that Conan and Shinichi are one in the same.

[Sherlock gives a nod of understanding.]

Does this... [He gestures to Shinichi's form.] Happen often?

No. My guess is that poison in the milk would have killed me but it instead attacked the thing that kept me trapped as a seven year old-although it might not be permanent.

[915 Bilko Boulevard]

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