Twelfth Deduction
[Conan woke to the discovery that his room had changed over the night. It no longer bore a resemblance to a hotel room. Instead he found himself sitting in a chair in the center of a large circular room. Shelves of books covered every avalable surface and rose up to the ceiling high above him. He recognized many of them as copies of books he'd read on forensics and criminal investigation and hundreds of other subjects. A shelf of Holmes novels was displayed prominently. Library ladders were scattered around the walls. Intended to provide access to the higher levels of shelves, he was sure. All around the room he could see ranks of filing cabinets standing along the lowest level of the walls, a familiar sign marking them as solved cases.
The center of the room held only a few pieces of sturdy furniture. His father's desk took center place, with two leather chairs nearby. Craning his neck, he could see pictures of familiar people displayed prominently. Ran, of course. he recognized the picture as one that had been taken that day at Tropical Land. But also the old man, the Professor and the detective boys, and Haibara. The Metropolitan police were there as well, as were his own parents and Hattori and dozens of others. Across the desk he could see an open file. The Black Organization, of course. The only case he hadn't solved yet.
And sitting there, reading the file, was Shinichi Kudo. Himself as he should be. Conan gapes for a moment before sputtering out a question.]
H-how? This shouldn't be possible!
[The teen glances up from the file absently.]
You haven't deducted the solution yet? It's elementary. This is our mind. Where else should we be?
[ooc]
A very disturbed Conan will be leaving soon, but Shinichi will be hanging around through the entire event to talk to people. Feel free to wander in and talk to him or take a look at Conan's case files. Or wonder why this kid has a teenage version of himself inside his mind.]
The center of the room held only a few pieces of sturdy furniture. His father's desk took center place, with two leather chairs nearby. Craning his neck, he could see pictures of familiar people displayed prominently. Ran, of course. he recognized the picture as one that had been taken that day at Tropical Land. But also the old man, the Professor and the detective boys, and Haibara. The Metropolitan police were there as well, as were his own parents and Hattori and dozens of others. Across the desk he could see an open file. The Black Organization, of course. The only case he hadn't solved yet.
And sitting there, reading the file, was Shinichi Kudo. Himself as he should be. Conan gapes for a moment before sputtering out a question.]
H-how? This shouldn't be possible!
[The teen glances up from the file absently.]
You haven't deducted the solution yet? It's elementary. This is our mind. Where else should we be?
[ooc]
A very disturbed Conan will be leaving soon, but Shinichi will be hanging around through the entire event to talk to people. Feel free to wander in and talk to him or take a look at Conan's case files. Or wonder why this kid has a teenage version of himself inside his mind.]