[2] a pocket full of rye.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[First grade writing class would be dull for any seventeen year old. For one that considers himself, with some justification, something of a genius, it is soul destroyingly boring. Little wonder then, that as Conan’s hand mechanically copies kanji after kanji, his mind is elsewhere.

Not surprisingly, given the type of genius we’re talking about, his thoughts are on a case. Or – two cases. Mouri had dropped Azusa’s older brother’s disappearance as soon as the call from Yoko came through about a missing colleague -- Tch … that guy and his crushes …-- but the Detective Boys had looked into it for Azusa without luck. The police weren’t having much luck finding any trace of Sugihito Enomoto either … And Conan could only wait to find out what Mouri had learned at the studio. Uncle wasn’t a bad detective when he made the effort … but with Yoko there to distract him, was there any chance he’d pick up any clues?

Frowning, Conan's thoughts turned back to the disappearances that Guinevere had mentioned, and from there to the Astral Plane. When sitting in the first-grade classroom, listening to the sound of many pencils moving laboriously over identical workbooks, it was hard to imagine any place like the Plane could exist, much less some of the people he’d met there--]

Ah – uh.

[Travel to the Plane was indeed seamless. It was quite a surprise to go from sunny classroom to the depths of space.]

AAAAAAAHHHHH.

[And not a good idea to be sitting down when you made it. Conan’s kneejerk reaction to finding himself transported sent his school chair tipping. On the way down, his foot hit the first-grade desk, jarring it so that his pencils slowly began to roll off the desk while Conan’s desperate attempt to grab the desk to steady himself had him pulling his art kit with him instead. Great detective, sure, and used to making entrances, but sprawled on Astral Plane surrounded by paint tubes and crayons, Conan’s thinking this is one entrance he could have done without.]

Comments

[ex_fatalist246]

[To make this mess even better, Satoshi appears as if ducking his way out of a fall, and one of his feet plants itself on a paint tube. Hikari do like art. He catches himself from the fall with expert skill, but his glasses fall off his face to join the spattered paint.]

Sorry.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[It just wasn't Conan's day, was it? At least he could hope that with his sudden entrance, Satoshi had missed witnessing Conan's less than dignified arrival. Picking himself up, he reached for Satoshi's glasses, pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the paint off before holding them back out.]

Don't mention it.

[ex_fatalist246]

[Satoshi accepts them, putting them in his pocket.] Thanks. [He leans down, in order to clean up as much of the mess as he can.]

[ooc: sorry for lateness lately; things have been kicking up in life]

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Ah -- thank you.

[Conan's a little surpised to find Satoshi helping him tidy up the mess -- but between them, it doesn't take them long to get all the crayons and paints back into their respective places in the art supplies box and Conan hangs it back on to the hook on his desk.]

I'm still getting used to the Plane.

... is my desk going to be stuck here now?

((ooc: no worries! I'm glad you're still up for continuing this thread!))

[ex_fatalist246]

You can bring it back if you hold onto it when you go back. You carry what you're touching with you.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[Conan eyes his desk sourly. With his luck, he's going to end up tipping his desk over on his re-entry. Well, it's not as though we were studying anything interesting ...

Putting his art kit back on the side of his desk, Conan chases after his escaped pencils.]

If you see me being sent to the Principal's office, you'll know why.

[ex_fatalist246]

I can't right now. I'm not in Tokyo. [This seems to be to his displeasure, if vague annoyance can be read in a mostly monotonous expression.]

[eyesofaserpent]

.......... You 'kay?

[Okay, so Crowley might be a little drunk... Alright fine, a lot drunk.]

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Ah, just fine, Crowley-san!

[Fortunately, dealing with drunks is something Conan does on a weekly, if not daily basis. He waves to Crowley.]

Don't worry!

[eyesofaserpent]

[He still manages step over and pull Conan to his feet. Albeit he's a bit wobbly while doing it.]

Quite a tumble, sssquirt...

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[Once on his own feet, Conan dusts himself off, looking wryly at the surrounding mess.]

Ah, I was a little surprised to come here ...

[eyesofaserpent]

Weren't trying? That happensss.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Ah, I guess so! Though I have to hope that next time I don't bring my desk with me.

[Slurring? Ha, he's in pretty bad shape -- the usual or did something ... ?]

What about you, Crowley-san? What are you doing?

[explains]

Hey, you alright?

[Because Guy is never one to turn away from someone if they might be hurt. Besides, he somewhat remembers this kid, and he feels rather bad for the first impression he probably made.]

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Ah -- I'm fine!

[Conan gingerly sits up, wincing as the last of the pencils roll off the dask -- there really was nothing dignified about any of this. Trying to gain a little control over the situation, Conan stands up, righting his chair -- then blinks as he recognises his companion.]

Guy-san, right?

[explains]

That's right. Conan, correct?

[Guy smiles, amiable, and kneels to help collect the scattered pencils and whatever else may have fallen.]

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Right! Ah -- thank you! You don't have to ...

[Conan trails off as he realises that Guy doesn't seem to be having any difficulty gathering up the spilled school supplies. Ha ... guess he's doing better? Kneeling to help Guy, Conan tries to see if there's any clues to what he's been up to in his clothes or bearing.]

[explains]

[Guy's dressed in red, what looks to be a soldier's uniform. But there's no blood and his posture and actions are easy and friendly.]

It's not a problem. What were you up to?

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[That's something of a relief! That -- first impression was worrying.]

Kanji practice! See?

[Putting a handful of papers back into his desk, Conan holds up the exercise book on the desk. The kanji they seem to be working on is '本']

Ne, are things better for you and your friends?

[dritte-tochter.livejournal.com]

[Suiseiseki was watching from a distance, curious, but she can't help but make a quip once Conan falls over]

You're very clumsy, desu.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[Just as Conan was starting to think he might have got away with it. Gingerly picking himself up, he grimaced in Suiseiseki's direction.]

Sorry! I didn't mean to disturb anyone.

[dritte-tochter.livejournal.com]

Well, you didn't do a very good job, desu.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[Desu again? Conan almost raised an eyebrow but remembered an elementary school student would not be so sharp. That particular linking verb was usually used to be polite, especially by young girls, but his companion was neither concilatory or childish. Mocking me?]

I guess not!

[Not wasting any time, Conan starts picking up his scattered belongings.]

[dritte-tochter.livejournal.com]

[oh Conan, she's gonna drive you nuts, isn't she?]

Hmmm. [Suiseiseki comes closer, beginning to look through his things as he rights the chair] What were you working on, desu?

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Kanji practice.

[Conan points to the notebook still open on his desk, filled with lots of neatly drawn characters. He sets the spilled pencils back on the desk before turning to the scattered paints.]