A brief selection just for fun (and to tease Ravivkit, who hasn’t gotten here yet):

CotR Book 2: 22

Stiff.

That was the first thing that Shinichi became aware of as his consciousness slowly returned again.

Stiff and sore.

His limbs felt like they were trapped under heaps of cement, keeping his body plastered to the bed. He felt the sheets; also stiff, but from starch, and kind of scratchy against his exposed skin. The paper texture of the pillow under his head crinkled as he shifted, ever so slightly, to test his senses. It was bright; he could tell that without even opening his eyes. Harsh, overhead lights. The area smelled clean. Too clean. Sterile.

A hospital bed.

The young detective’s fingers twitched against the clean linens and sheets underneath him. The room was temperature controlled and warm. He felt plastic tubing against his wrist; an IV. Likely pumping a saline solution. That explained why his body was so numb and heavy. Tylenol? Lortab? Percocet? Morphine? He could tell by gently rubbing his index finger against neighboring middle finger that he was still Conan… so it was likely an extra strength children’s tyenol in liquid form. The dull ache in his head seemed to confirm this fact… morphine would keep someone of his weight out for several hours.

But then… what time was it?

‘An update on our news story from last night…’

Muffled voices. From a tv in the hospital room, hung from the ceiling on the right-hand side of the room. A female reporter. He’d heard her voice before.

“The Detective Killer’ is still on the loose as police comb the city in search of the man who has apparently been targeting anyone publicly involved in the business of private investigation. Several detectives have been reported missing over the past month with several additional reports of potential targets having been attacked. One such instance occurred last night when noted detective Mouri Kogoro – The Sleeping Sleuth – was attacked in his office while he and the police investigated the kidnapping of his daughter, who disappeared the night previous.”

Ran…

“Eye witnesses state that gunfire was unleashed on the Mouri Detective Agency from a building across the street. The police attempted to apprehend the suspect, resulting in a high-speed chase that led to several traffic accidents and slow down on the major highways over the route. The collateral damage was mostly limited to uninhabited buildings in the still-developing new shopping area down town, but it took clean up crews most of the night and into the morning to remove debris due to the persistent bad weather. Fortunately, injuries sustained by officers and bystanders was limited, with the exception of two minors who are now being treated at their local hospital.”

Hattori… right, the fight with Ouzo. Last night? How long have I been asleep?

The boy’s brows knitted in uncertainty and concern, trying to reason through the fog.

“Mouri, who is believed to be the intended target, suffered multiple gunshot wounds in the initial attack and was taken by ambulance to the Beika City Hospital, where he is now resting in stable condition. Police are still searching for the target and advise citizens to avoid unnecessary travel and to stay in groups….”

Relief flooded through him. So Kogoro was all right. But Ouzo was still out there, which meant that Ran was still captured.

With extreme amounts of effort, Conan forced his eyes open as wide as they would go – only halfway – then squinted them shut again at the light.

Too bright…

It made his head hurt like hot fire pokers piercing his skull. He grimaced, shakily lifting a hand to his face. The motes in his eyes danced brilliant reds and whites while nausea twisted in his stomach.  He grit his teeth, ignoring it, and pushed his hand down against he bed, deciding it would have better use in pushing him up. He could just keep his eyes closed.

But that was a big mistake.

“Oh, he’s awake.”  

Hands, possibly belonging to the other female voice that spoke, touched his shoulder and held him in place, awkwardly balanced somewhere between numbing apathy and awakening pain.  The nurse’s long fingernails pressed against the thin garment over his torso.

“0.1 mgs ought to be enough… go ahead and give it to him.”

The orders from the male voice brought an almost immediate and definitive drowsiness. Although he briefly considered it, he didn’t struggle against the hands that gently guided him back down to the crinkly pillow or thin sheets. The voices lost their clarity but the timbre resonated in his ears when the doctor gingerly touched his face and then his throat, and finally his chest.

And then… nothing.