[4] cat among the pigeons.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[Adrenalin racing, Conan slipped through the dark alleys, senses hyper aware. Any move could be his last. A numbness had set into his right arm where the bullet had grazed it but it was his cut cheek that stung -- the only thing he felt. Ran--

It had been so quick, with all the frozen terror of a nightmare. Gin and Vodka there, and knowing everything --

And his friends already dead.

He moved automatically, unable to afford to think about that. He couldn't. If he stopped to feel, even for a second ... no, it was only cold logic that could save him now. He had to think, he couldn't give into the loss, the anger, the rising panic -- he'd used the sleeping needle on Vodka and a bullet from Gin had disabled his power enhancing sneaker ... Conan shut that line of thought off. He still had his celphone, his knowledge of the Black Organisation and something would occur, an unexpected chance -- Gin had more to lose from being seen than Conan did after all. If he could find people --

He tried the door automatically, not expecting it to open -- but open it did. Slipping inside as quietly as he could, Conan shut it behind him before turning and -- blinking. There was something odd about this room. Something vaguely --

The note! He'd almost forgotten --

Hastily opening the door again, Conan found himself looking out onto not the night streets of Tokyo but the dim interior of a shop after hours. He shut the door slowly. He'd done it? This was all a -- test?

Taking a deep breath, the apparent seven-year-old leans back against the wall. After a moment he sits. He's going to need a moment.]

((ooc: meant to do this earlier but this has been one hectic week. Open to anyone in the shop post-trials! I am purposefully being vague on time in order to interact with anyone who wants to! Also I wanted to doublecheck the ooc post before making this post but the ooc comm is currently not working for me, so I may be editing this slightly once it is -- apologies in advance!))

Comments

[onperfectlips.livejournal.com]

[A test, yes, but what had it proved? Maybe all they had wanted to know was how far the people of the Plane would go for their friends.

Gwen returned to the shop after her own quest, eager to offer her assistance to anyone who had need of it. (If nothing else, it would distract her from the memories of what she'd endured to reach the cure for Hiccup.]

Conan? Are you all right?

[Her face was a picture of concern - and, underneath that, tiredness and staved off grief - when she knelt down next to him.]

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Gwen-san ...

[Conan notes the signs of fatigue, emotional exhaustion -- ha, is that what I look like?]

Is this the Plane?

[onperfectlips.livejournal.com]

Yes. You've made it out of the shop. You're safe now.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Was that --

That wasn't ... real?

[The mirrors -- they hadn't shown the truth either. Conan remembered now. So the rest of it --

His fingers found the stinging graze on his cheek. That was real enough.]

Gwen-san, do you know what happened?

[onperfectlips.livejournal.com]

It felt real. [She leaned forward to examine his cheek, seeing if she needed to return to Camelot and borrow something from Gaius in order to treat it.] Perhaps that's enough.

Whatever it was, it's over now.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[Gwen might notice that the cut on his cheek is shallow and not any cause for alarm, but his arm is slightly more serious.]

Enough?

This is -- where is it?

[onperfectlips.livejournal.com]

The Plane. You're back on the Plane.

[She moved to his arm next, her forehead creasing with worry.]

What happened, Conan?

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

I thought --

It was Tokyo. There were --Ran. [Deep breath.] People I know were hurt.

I saw mirrors before that. They showed things that weren't real. That wasn't either was it?

[Conan's starting to calm down and as he does, the stinging of his arm starts to register through the mixture of adrenalin and exhaustion. He tugs the sleeve of his long sleeved t-shirt up at Guinevere's words, revealing the wound -- not bad, by any means, but nothing to sneeze at!]

[onperfectlips.livejournal.com]

No. We all saw the mirrors, though they showed us different things.

[Gwen nodded, tearing a strip of material from her dress to serve as a makeshift bandage.]

It doesn't look serious. You're going to be fine.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Your dress--

Is that all right, Gwen-san?

[onperfectlips.livejournal.com]

It's only a dress. Your arm is far more important.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Ah ... thank you.

[Conan's not convinced it's just a dress. As he lets Gwen finish bandaging his arm, he resolves to find something nice for her in his world -- this deserves a special thanks.]

[onperfectlips.livejournal.com]

There. That's better. Now you just need to get some rest.

[bit_impossible]

[the Doctor doesn't immediately notice the short, little boy when he arrives from his own trial. actually, he only does the moment he goes to leave, catching sight of the figure out of the corner of his eye] Oh! Hello there! Have you gotten yourself lost?

[he really hopes this boy didn't go through a similar test of mental endurance as he had done]


[ooc: So sorry for the late tag! I hope you don't mind!]

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[The doctor might not have noticed Conan, but Conan was aware of the Doctor -- and of the signs that clearly indicated the man had come from a traumatic experience. Ha ... Three guesses what that was and the first two don't count. He'd hesitated over whether or not to disturb the man, but knowing how he'd needed time to pull himself together had elected to let the other notice him or not. Now that he had, Conan carefully stood up to answer.]

I'm not lost. I was just thinking.

Are you all right?

((ooc: not at all! I am delighted.))

[bit_impossible]

[whether he is or not, he still answers] Oh yes, I'm fine! Just was expecting more back here, you know? Bit anti-climactic, if you ask me. [he sniffs, pushing all feelings and thoughts aside to be processed later!]

Anyway, I'm the Doctor. What's your name? [stoops over so he's a little closer to Conan's height]

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Ha ... I guess you're right about that! It seems like a lot of fuss for some apples, a few coins and a tube of toothpaste.

[Conan pauses.] The Doctor. Um. Just the Doctor?

I'm Edogawa Conan.

[bit_impossible]

And raisins, apparently. [pulls a face]

Yup, that's me! [but he pauses a bit at Conan's name, an eyebrow shooting upwards] Really? Any relation to Rampo?

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

Not a fan?

No relation. It's unusual to meet someone not from Japan whose heard of him ...

Ne, do you know Inspector Menzies?

[bit_impossible]

Oh no, I adore raisins, but it just wasn't what I'd expect to get, you know?

No, huh? [there's a mischievous sparkle in his eye now] That's a shame. I had the pleasure of meeting him once. Brilliant fellow, though I always could guess who did it fairly quickly. Never told him that, though.

[raises an eyebrow, surprised he knows of her] I do, yes! ...Why, did she try to nick you for something you didn't do as well when she first met you?

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

I guess if there was anything I'd been expecting, this wouldn't have been it either.

[Raises an eyebrow. Is his companion implying ... ?] I don't think he'd have minded -- lots of his stories, he tells the audience right away. Like it wasn't the mystery, it was the horror of the crime that appealed to him -- ah, at least, that's what my father says!

No. What did she think you'd done? [Oh, this sounds good.]

[bit_impossible]

[he smiles knowingly. so the lad has read them.] So your father's a fan as well, eh?

[starts rubbing the back of his neck] Oh, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Got it all sorted fairly quickly, though. [yeah, he's not about to admit he was suspected of murder just because his TARDIS happened to turn up in the apartment of a dead man...]

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

More than a fan -- he's a novelist!

[Conan raises an eyebrow. The vague reply, the nervous gesture ... he's definitely asking Menzies about this the next time he sees her.]

That's good! I like Inspector Menzies a lot, but I don't think I'd like to see her angry.

[bit_impossible]

Is he? Have I heard of him before? [this question is more to himself but he leaves it open anyway]

[gives a slightly dismissive wave of his hand] Patricia's not exactly quick to anger, but yeah, you'd be right to stay on her good side.

[holmes-fanatic.livejournal.com]

[Choosing to miss the Doctor's enquiry, Conan's interested instead at how he refers to Menzies. Patricia, huh? Guess that confirms it.]

Ne -- what are you a doctor of? Inspector Menzies didn't say.