Monthly Archives: August 2013

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meitanteiosaka:

The motorcycle pulled up to the large mansion, a sidecar attached just for this occasion. He also had duct tape, rope, and zip ties, just in case.

Dismounting and knocking on the door, he announced himself to the woman who answered. “Yo! I’m Hattori Heiji. I’m here ta kidnap Hakuba fer his birthday. He in?”

“Kidnapping the young master? For his birthday? Oh, that’s delightful! Come in, Hattori-kun, come in!”

Baaya was pleased. Here she was, thinking that her dear Saguru would spend another birthday moping and pretending that he was good at hiding it, but a surprise birthday party? He must have been making more friends than she thought!

It must be the hot yoga. There was no other explanation. 

“He’s probably in his bedroom. Here’s the key. I’ll escort you to it; I know he doesn’t have normal friend company over often.”

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Quand le vin est tiré, il faut le boire.
Joyeux anniversaire, cheval blanc.

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And a tasseled plant upon the hastily written note that was beside the poured drink of scotch. No name, so the only manner of identification would be the slick, italicized handwriting.

—

“He… he remembered?" 

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“Happy birthday, Hakuba-kun! I, uh, wasn’t sure what to get you, so hopefully you don’t own this…” Akira presented the first season of Elementary to him, ducking her head. She laid a gift card to their usual frozen yogurt haunt on top of Jonny Lee Miller’s face. “Have a great day.”

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“Ah! I’ve been meaning to watch this. Can you believe that I haven’t seen a single episode of it yet? These cases lately have been murder!”  He laughed.

Then laughed some more.

When he was finally done, he coughed and took the gifts with a grateful nod. “Thank you, Akira-kun. I’ll make sure to treat next time we go — after shopping tomorrow afternoon, right~?” 

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Midnight Tea || phantom-thief-kid

August 28th, 11:24:13pm, just outside of the Kuroba household.

Hakuba parked his car, retrieved his duffel, then thought better of it. He couldn’t remember if he’d actually sent the text asking if he could come over or if he’d just imagined it. Perhaps there’d been a phone call or an email. Had he mentioned it in passing? The detective hesitated next to the car and checked his pocket watch, then verified it against his wrist watch. It did nothing to recall what he was missing. Which was, specifically, his phone.

In his haste to leave his house on a sudden whim (or had it been?), he’d left it behind. He could have gone back for it. He probably should have. But he was already there and, if Kaito would oblige, he wouldn’t need it. Hakuba checked his watch again, then left the car to put on a brave face. 

He knocked, then wrang his hands anxiously, waiting for a response. Was Kaito even home? Leaning back, he checked for any signs in the windows, but immediately turned back to the door and retrieved his pocket watch once again. 

Please be home… please answer… 

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I woke up to another empty bed this morning. This is not an unusual thing, and normally it’s not even a problem. I don’t even think about it most of the time. However, this morning was different. I didn’t wake until my alarm went off, and as I lay there, thinking about the lyrics to the song (Le Festin), becoming increasingly anxious about my upcoming trip to Paris. 

To say that I’m looking forward to it would be an understatement. I need to get away. This misery that I’ve been so comfortably settled in is becoming an increasing source of madness. 

Paris is the place that I run to hide from my problems and my past. I know this. It’s the only place that I feel safe enough to let my guard down. Almost no one knows me there. Oh, some will recognize my name and occupation, but for the most part, I’m just able to be myself and wander. Aimless, free. 

Just two weeks and change. In the meantime, I have some cases to finish up and a few more interviews to handle. My new agent seems busy, which is both good and taxing. The one I had just yesterday, they…

They asked about White Chapel.

At first I thought they were making a reference to the White Chapel murders but, no… they… they were legitimately asking about the academy. How or why I don’t know. The recent press for the trial, perhaps? I suppose it was suspicious that I turned up in London unannounced but why should they…? And in Japan, of all things. None of that was printed here. 

My agent assures me that he is just as confused as I am. 

I need a break. I need Paris. I need to clear my head of all of this nonsense. 

(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)