Summary: Hakuba is murdered after Conan refuses to help him with a case. While the circumstances surrounding his death seem straightforward enough, things become complicated after Conan begins to receive letters from Hakuba 45 days later. Using the clues and journals left for him, Conan must forge unexpected alliances to discover the truth behind their shared ‘Boscombe’ secrets.

This is part 1/5 (probably). Please note that this is not part of Call of the Raven, though of course a lot of my inspiration comes from the writings I’ve done with Clover and my other RP pals. Many thanks to those who’ve helped with this! <3 

Posted to ffnet here. (my first ever posting there gasp!)

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Chapter 1

“So did you get hit in the face or what?”

“I don’t have a lot of time, Edogawa-kun. If you could stop evading my line of questioning, I’ll be able to do what I’ve come to do and be out of your way.”

Conan glanced up at the detective across the coffee table, who sat prim and proper, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded in his lap. The bruising cut across his cheekbone was the only thing that was out of place compared to the mental image that he kept of him, even down to the black briefcase at his feet. Hakuba Saguru was someone that he liked and respected. Despite his distant behavior, he was friendly enough, and a professional in his own right.

But today, he’d come with questions that the pint-sized detective wasn’t interested in answering.

“Hm… no.” The boy offered a shrug with his answer. “Uncle’s not here, so I can’t help you with your case, Hakuba-san. Client confidentiality and all, y’know.”

The blond sighed, lifting a hand to rub the bridge of his nose; a tired, but practiced action that he’d done more than half a dozen times since arriving fifteen minutes earlier. “Yes, I understand all of that. As a consultant, I have my own policies regarding this very thing, however-”

“So you know that I can’t tell you anything. Sorry, but you’re gonna have to find the information out for yourself. Not that that’ll be a problem for you, right? You’re the Sherlock of the new century!” Conan snickered, which only tightened Hakuba’s jaw.

“Speaking as one colleague to another, this is ridiculous. I need your help, Edogawa-kun. I know that you can. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Haaakuba-san, I’m only six years old. You’re my senpai! How’m I supposed to help you?”

“Please… please don’t patronize me,” Hakuba said, shifting then to stand. His hands returned to their folded position, this time behind his back. “You don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?” Conan watched as Hakuba moved toward the window, gaze fixed on the navy suit jacket. It was neatly pressed, just as the rest of his clothing, just as it always was. That was Hakuba’s manner; clean, orderly, pristine. All according to regulation. Good, straight posture, head held high, but not too much. He wasn’t military or royalty, but he was disciplined. Hakuba came from money and private academies. But that didn’t change Conan’s position one bit.

“I know who you are.” The foreign detective sighed again. “I only haven’t been forward out of professional courtesy and respect for you.”

What? He couldn’t mean…

Conan froze, then shook his head, quirking a brow. “Huh?”

Hakuba glanced back over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, then turned back to the streets below. “Are you really going to deny that you are, in fact, Kudou Shinichi?”

Forcing an incredulous smirk, Conan flopped sideways onto the couch. “Aha ha he – what are you talking about? I know we look similar, but where’d you get that idea?”

“Data analysis. It’s really quite simple when you have all of the details, Kudou-san. I’ve been following your case for months. Which you’d know, had you bothered to read the letters that I’d sent.” Hakuba didn’t turn to look at him this time; Conan could only assume that he was observing the people below. His voice held none of that arrogant triumph that it normally did during other deductions. He kept the volume down, tone somber.

He knew about the letters. Fanmail from the other detective, all variations on pleas to work on cases together, despite that they both knew that neither of them enjoyed working with others. But… how much did Hakuba really know? He’d have to be careful, here. Conan wasn’t prepared to let another person into his circle, not yet. There was too much investment that went into it. Too much risk. Every person who learned the truth further diffused the responsibility and made it that much more dangerous for everyone involved. No, he was not willing to let that happen again. Not with Hakuba, who he only barely knew from a handful of other cases. Not when he couldn’t even get along with Hattori for five minutes.

“That’s stupid. Shinichi-niisan and I play soccer all the time. I think I’d know if I were secretly my hero, Hakuba-san. What kind of data would you have, anyway?”

“Again, there’s really not time for this, Kudou-san. If you could please cut the horseshit and give me the information that I need, I’ll be on my way.”

It was a bluff, then. He’d seen Hakuba on the news and in interviews; he loved showing off. He lived for the glamour and thrill of running circles around the lesser, especially when he could get them riled up. Missing an opportunity to impress Conan, his self-appointed kohai and apprentice, according to a magazine article a couple of months ago, though? Never.

“I can’t tell you anything until you prove it, Hakuba-san. And it’d better be quick, ’cause Ran-neechan’s gonna be home soon, and she won’t like that you’re stalking her boooyfriend~!”

Hakuba stiffened, finally turning to face him again, leaning against the glass. His gaze, now icy stone, moved from Conan to the door, then back. “You’d like me to prove it. Irrefutably?”

Conan kicked his feet against the arm of the couch, folding arms behind his head. “Yep.”

Hakuba closed his eyes a moment, took in a deep breath, then forced a small smile. “All right, then. But I’ll need to use your cellphone.”

Really? Conan rolled his eyes as he fished the phone from his pocket and held it up, unable to hold back the smug smirk on his face. “Sure.” It was clean, he knew. All data safely tucked away where no one could find it. At least, not in the few minutes Hakuba had before Ran came home.

“Thank you.”

“Whatcha gonna do with it?”

“I’m about to make a call.”

Conan rolled his eyes. “What’s that gonna do?”

“You’ll see.”

Amused, Conan watched as Hakuba started his pacing again, probably to figure out how to work the thing. A moment later, Hakuba took out his own phone and typed in a speed dial code, then held it up to his ear, looking back at him with a smirk of his own. The expression changed to one of horror, though, right before he began to speak.

“H-hello?!” Hakuba stammered, eyes wide. “Oh, thank god you’ve answered. I need your help.”

Conan sat up. What was this…?

“No, no, I’m fine… but it’s Kudou-san. He’s missing.” Hakuba nodded his head to the voice on the other end of the line, biting his lip. “No, you don’t understand, Hattori-san…”

Conan frowned. Shit.

“Hattori-san!” Hakuba hissed. “I need to know who knows about him.” A pause. “You know, about his little secret? He’s been compromised.” He glanced back to Conan again, giving a thumbs up.

Shit.

“I really don’t know where, but… no. Oh, god, he’s not supposed to know? Mouri-san was just… Oh, no… oh, god no. If that’s true, this building isn’t safe. Could you call him, please? I’ve got to get Megure-keibu on the line immediately.”

Dammit… dammit! Conan bit his lip. He could see what was going to happen already, and it wasn’t going to be good. Not at all.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll let you know if I hear anything at all.” Hakuba hung up, then tucked his own phone back into his pocket, lifting Conan’s phone up to inspect again, smug smirk back on that arrogant face. “How long do you suppose it’ll take?”

Conan thought about fighting it. If he lunged hard enough to the side or back of his legs, he might be able to knock the British bastard down to the floor, long enough to take his phone back. But, doing so would only confirm suspicions. He clenched his fists instead, grinning while he hoped that Hattori would be smart enough to call his other line. “I dunno what you mean, but it’s pretty low to worry Heiji-niisan like that.”

The little red phone vibrated. Hakuba glanced at the caller ID and gasped, turning it to show the Osakan’s photo. He opened the phone and hit the speaker.

“Oi! Kudo?! Are you okay?!”

Conan sighed. “Dammit, Hattori.”

“Where are ya?! Hakuba said ya were in trouble!”

“No… no, Hattori, I’m fine. Hakuba’s just… Can I have my phone back now?”

Hakuba offered it to him, brows lifted high in amusement, which only frustrated Conan more. Damn him… damn him!

“Hakuba’s just… what?”

Conan turned speaker off and adjusted his glasses once the phone was tucked against his ear. “So you just gave my secret away to your arch nemesis.”

“I WHAT?!”

“My apologies, Hattori-san,” Hakuba said, hands slipping into his pockets. “Kudou-san asked me to prove his identity and now I’ve accomplished this with your help. Thank you for your assistance.”

“HAKUBA?!”

Conan held the phone out away from his ear and glared up at him. “YEP. And now I’ve gotta do some damage control so talk to you later, Hattori.”

“I’LL KILL THAT BASTA-”

Click. Conan put the phone away, and folded his arms across his chest. “So.”

“So, if you’ll please tell me about that bank robbery Mouri-san was called in to discuss, I’d greatly appreciate it, Kudou-san.”

“Don’t call me that. Not here. Are you stupid?”

Hakuba frowned, taking a seat on the opposite couch once more. “Pardon. Edogawa-kun, if you could relay any information you have regarding the criminals…”

“No.”

“What? But I’ve just proven that…”

“So what?”

“Isn’t that the deal we established?”

“No. I don’t make negotiations with that kind of information, Hakuba.”

“Edogawa-kun, I don’t think you understand how important this is. I have reason to believe that those criminals have been involved in other robberies of this very same kind…”

“Yeah, bank robbers will do that. That’s kind of their thing.”

“It’s not just that. This is part of something else. Something larger. From what I’ve been able to learn thus far, if my theories are correct, this so-called small-time robbery was actually the targeted work of an organized syndicate. I think they’re after something specific.”

Conan returned to his seat, careful to keep his expression deadpan as he listened to Hakuba go on and on. He was absolutely correct, of course, but there was no way that he was going to let him get involved with them. Especially now that he knew the truth about Conan. He shrugged. “The reports say otherwise. The guys weren’t connected to any of the other burglaries. None have a history with each other, just a rap sheet for other stuff. Arson, auto theft, shoplifting… Just regular crooks.”

“You can’t really believe that. Surely, you’ve seen the pattern. The types of banks that are being hit, the kind of clientele that they service. It’s all related. It’s connected.”

“No… pretty sure that you just sound crazy.”

Hakuba gaped. “You… you must be joking. You, of all people, would know.”

“Yeah. I know. I thought that at first, too, but I’ve been over the same information a hundred times, and it’s just coincidence. They’re not related, Hakuba. You’re just wasting your time.”

He stared, brows furrowed, mouth still open in disbelief. “I know what I’ve found in the evidence, Edogawa-kun. It’s Baskerville all over again.”

Conan got up, took his glasses off, and cleaned them with the tails of his shirt. “Oi… You really want to get into Holmes with me, Hakuba?”

“It’s better than your passive aggressive comments and blatant lies.”

“’…When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,’ Hakuba. I’ve already eliminated that possibility, so what does that tell you?”

Hakuba went back to rubbing the bridge of his nose. “That this is either a Boscombe secret or you really just don’t care for me.”

Conan tilted his head, humming as he put his glasses back on. “Yeah, that’s probably true. Hattori was right about you. You really are kind of obnoxious.”

There was a pause, then, as Hakuba regarded the boy in silence. Gone was the attitude, replaced with another icy stare. “Be that as it may, I need to see the case file, Edogawa-kun. Please.”

“No.”

Hakuba closed his eyes and withdrew the silver watch from his pocket. He flipped it open, glanced down, then snapped it closed before standing up. “Very well. I shall return tomorrow with a warrant.”

“Oi, you’re gonna pull rank, then? I thought you were better than that, Hakuba.”

He shook his head as he walked to the door, hands slipping back into his pockets. “I’ll be going through the proper channels, as always. I’m not a poor sport like some of our colleagues and associates, Edogawa-kun.”

“Yeah… good luck with that.”

Hakuba opened the door and stepped out onto the landing, looking back only to nod his head. “Cheers,” he said, voice humorless, and left.

Conan waited until the door clicked closed before turning back to the briefcase that had been left behind. The question was if Hakuba were really that upset with his sarcastic remarks or if he’d meant to leave it behind. Regardless, there was definitely going to be something worth reading in there. He tested the latches and found the lock along the side. Four number dials. It wouldn’t take him long to crack; while Hakuba was intelligent, he was predictable. All of that procedure and protocol. But it’d have to wait until everyone else went to bed.

Fortunately, the briefcase wasn’t all that heavy. Conan fit it neatly between the filing cabinet and the wall and set up camp back on the couch to wait for the Mouris to come home.

It was just past two am when Conan returned to the office. He switched on the desk lamp and retrieved the briefcase. Heiji had expected his call.

“Yeah, we really need to work on that…”

“I’m sorry, Kudo! That damn halfer had me worried.”

“Yeah, I know.” Conan sighed, spinning the dials. “Let’s see here…”

“What’re ya doin?”

“Hakuba left his briefcase here. I’m breaking into it.” Conan paused to let Heiji laugh before he continued. “Four numbers. It can’t be that hard.”

“Try 1234.”

“Just did, wasn’t it. So I guess the half-brit half-wit has that going for him, at least.”

“Half-brit half-wit?” Hattori cackled again.

“Yeah. But that was really dumb, though, letting him manipulate you like that.”

“Ya coulda’ said somethin’ if ya were standin’ right there ya know.”

Conan tilted his head at that. “Yeah… but I wanted to see what you would do, I guess.” He spun the dials again. “Hm, I wonder if…”

“What’re ya tryin’ this time?”

“Just a sec.” Conan blinked as the latch flipped open. “Huh. Go figure. That was it.”

“What was?”

“4869.” He lifted the lid, peering inside. No surprises, just papers. Good. Laying the lid against the desk, Conan began his investigation of the briefcase’s contents.

“An’ it was right? Where the hell didja get that?”

“It’s pretty simple, really. Hakuba’s a big Sherlock Holmes nut. 4869. Shi-hachi-roku-kyu. Shi-ha-ro-ku. Sherlock.” Conan sighed, feeling odd contentment at that. Clever. Maybe they had more in common than he thought. He’d need to change the password to his cellphone before they saw each other again.

“Hah! Who’d be stupid enough ta set that as their combination? That’s real obvious.”

“…Eh, yeah. Totally.” Grateful that Heiji couldn’t see his embarrassment, Conan pulled out a manila folder and pawed through. Case files, neatly organized with copies of reports, legal documents, and pages of hand-written notes. A small pencil case with highlighters, pens, and a mechanical drafting pencil kept them in place, nestled against the side. Rubber bands kept each folder closed. “Geez this guy is organized.”

“So what’s in it?”

“Bunch of homework, it looks like. Stuff for court and cases. The recent bank robberies, too.” He pulled the next folder out and slipped the rubber band off, setting it aside. “That’s what he was over here for today, by the way. Asking for Occhan’s files on it.”

“Didja give it to him?”

“Pft, no. Are you kidding? It’s bad enough that he knows who I am. I really don’t think he should be messing around with those crows, too.” Conan flipped through the pages of notes and stifled a yawn. “He sure has a lot of info, though…”

“Anythin’ useful?”

“Probably not. I mean, there are some police reports here that I haven’t seen, but we can get those any time. Megure-keibu’s been anxious for our help lately.” He turned another page, then paused. “Hey, there’s an envelope here.”

“Yeah?”

Conan picked it up and held it up to the light. “Addressed to Hakuba.” It had already been opened, so he slipped the letter out and flattened it over the folder. “Huh.”

“What?”

“It’s written completely in kanji. No kana anywhere. It looks like a ransom note, each character pieced together from…” The boy frowned, reflexively pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, leaning in for a closer look. “Shit.”

“Kudou?”

“This isn’t a ransom note; it’s a death threat.”

“Against Hakuba?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of disjointed; looks like they went out of their way to make it confusing, but this is definitely a…” He scanned the page again, taking note of the small notes written in the margins. “Oi, Hattori. Do you still have Hakuba’s number in your cell?”

“Yeah…”

“Call him. I’m going to get Megure-keibu on the line.”

“What? Why?”

“I think they’re going to try to kill him tonight… and I don’t think that Hakuba knows.”