Fandom: Detective Conan
Publish Date: 11/29/2004
Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan. But I do have homemade hand-puppets for each character...that's normal, right?
All things considered, it had been a fairly good day for Mouri Kogorou. He had gotten a call, gone to the scene of the crime—yet another murder, who would’ve thought it possible?—and looked things over. Then he could have sworn he’d felt a little prick, like a mosquito bite, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up, feeling groggy as hell, with Megure smacking him on the back and congratulating him.
He and his daughter and the annoying pest—er, Conan had come home after that. Ran had made dinner, he’d smacked Conan upside the head for being a pain, Ran had yelled at him, and now he was sitting at his desk with a can of beer. Could life get any sweeter?
But he was awfully tired. Why did he keep falling asleep and still somehow solving these cases? They weren’t kids’ stuff, that was for sure (AN: Wow, I think I made a pun!). He could never remember anything of them, either. But whatever mysterious forces were at work here, he wasn’t about to fight them. After all, it was because of them that his career had been made.
One hand moved to the back of his neck to massage the tense muscles there…but that hand paused as it felt an impediment to its path. With one movement, he removed the small—something, and held it up to eye-level for closer examination.
It appeared to be a small needle, all but invisible unless one was specifically looking for it.
Kogorou frowned. “Another one. Hmph.”
For quite some time now, it had been routine. He would solve some complex case and not remember doing so, nor would he remember the supposedly-fabulous series of deductions he had also made. Then later, he would find one of those damn pins in his neck. Always exactly the same.
Strangely, he had once pondered, it had started shortly after the irritating punk—um, Conan had shown up. And briefly, he entertained the seemingly crazy notion that perhaps the kid knew something about it…
But that notion had been shredded almost instantly, as Conan had chosen that moment to do something incredibly stupid, even for a kid. Kogorou still wasn’t one hundred percent sure how the little brat had managed to light his own sleeve on fire like that.
With a slight hmph, he dropped the needle into an ashtray on his desk—amidst dozens of other, similar needles. Once he had seen the pattern—and even dense as he could be, he had eventually noticed that something odd was happening—he had taken to saving them for some as-yet unknown reason. Probably a crazy reason, too.
Perhaps a lawsuit?
Granted, after those needles had started pricking the back of his neck, he’d been feeling a lot more relaxed. What was that called—acu-poking or something like that? Meh, something of that nature. Whatever it was, it was doing wonders for his back. But even so…
As he studied the ever-growing pile of pins on his desk, he rolled his eyes and took a long swig from the can in his hand. “This is ridiculous…I really gotta have a word with my tailor…”