For Conan!

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(Stolen from bakerstreet's 'handcuffed' meme)

Upon waking, Conan will find himself in some kind of musty storage room with the faintest scent of chloroform, still lingering on his face. The lighting keeps flickering every few moments and there are several sets of shelves lining the walls sparsely full of unmarked boxes. There's a layer of dust on just about everything and as he becomes more aware of his surroundings, he'll notice something on his wrist and something heavy attached to it.

When he looks, he'll find his friend Hattori laying on the floor next to him. There's a gash on his brow near his temple with dried blood smearing that area of his face and a few other visible injuries like he'd been in a fight. His knuckles are bruised and his bottom lip is split with a dark mark on the side of his jaw where he'd been struck with something. The dark skinned detective is almost perfectly still, giving the impression he was in even more dire shape than those minor injuries if it wasn't for the very subtle movement of his chest indicating breathing.

The oddest thing is the handcuffs that are attached to one of each of their wrists, holding them together. It looks like a very simple police grade cuff, but if Conan examines them they are solid without any cracks to show they open.

Comments

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Hattori carefully got to his feet and groaned once he was upright and put a hand quickly on the closest object for balance- Conan. "How much of that crap did they give me?" He waited another moment for the room to stop spinning before he was able to open his eyes again and let go of his younger companion.

He gave Conan a look at what clearly was a remark on the fact they were cuffed together and he'd been stuck while Hattori had been passed out. Whatever, he wasn't about to apologize for that! It wasn't his fault.

The question about the floor plan had him frowning and thinking. It shouldn't be this hard to remember stuff that normally he could bring forward in his mind with great ease! "No.. that's fuzzy." He loathed admitting it, but Conan needed to know he was still slightly compromised. It was humiliating but if he had to admit it, at least they were in a private room alone. "I'll follow your lead for another few minutes." He couldn't promise anything after that!

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He is so glad that he is the perfect height for a handrest now. Really. But considering the situation he doesn't complain.

Conan watches his uncharacteristic confusion with concern he wouldn't ever admit to.

"You might have a concussion," he offers up unhappily. If that was true, it was just going to make escaping from here more difficult.

Conan looks around at the walls of the room, frowning as he tries to recall what exactly he'd seen in the plans. He'd only gotten a brief glimpse, and it was difficult to figure out the orientation of this room without knowing where the door was.

"If I'm remembering right, and the plans were correct, one of these walls should be up against the wine cellar. We need to figure out which one it is."

So knocking it was. Conan tugs on the handcuff and heads for the nearest wall.

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If the worst thing that Hattori does to Conan while he's feeling so out of sorts was use him as a handrest, he figures that's pretty good. Another sign that his Osakan friend was completely off his game was the look of surprise at Conan's conclusion. As soon as the young man said it, Hattori groans at the obviousness. However, he wasn't ready to assume that was the case. It was equally likely these were hangover symptoms from the drug. That had to be the better answer- one that wouldn't take nearly so long to recover from!

Hattori followed Conan's suggestion to start knocking on the walls, though for at least the first few moments he was more using the wall for balance than anything useful. It was slowly getting better, or he was getting more used to the pain. He'd take either one as a good sign.

It finally occurred to him that Conan's knocks might not be hitting the right spots. "Do you need a lift?" Just as he was reaching down, he knocked on a wall with his other hand and the sound was noticeably different. Stopping, he quickly straightened again and hit the wall again. "Found it!" Maybe he wouldn't be completely dead weight for this investigation after all.

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At the announcement, Conan works his watch off his bound hand, and carefully switches the light on.

"I'll take that lift. I need a better look at the wall."

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Hattori must've picked Conan up a thirty plus times by now and never was it any big deal at all. The kid was scrawny even for seven. However, it was harder than it should've been simply because of how bad he was feeling.

He knew Conan was worried and watching him, though, so Hattori was doing his best to play it off like he was fine. If he was a little pale, who could tell in this dim light- right? At least he was far too determined to keep Conan safe to drop him.

Absent-mindedly, he reached for his neck to touch his charm while Conan guided his other wrist around, and then he gasped. "No! I dropped my chain. Conan, do you remember me having it earlier?" Shit! Maybe this was why they'd gotten in trouble so badly if he dropped it somewhere!

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Conan already suspected that Hattori was putting up an act. He'd known him long enough to know when he was up to something. But as long as he didn't look too bad, he wasn't going to call him on it. Better to get out of here fast and find a hospital.

He aims the light at the wall and slowly plays it over the masonry, looking for anything that seemed out of place. There. A protrusion in the wall that was slightly more worn than the rest of the stones. Conan leans over as far as he can and pushes at it.

In his surprise at Hattori's question he glances back just as the protrusion clicks and sinks into the wall.

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That's why you're his bro, you know when not to call him out on stuff when it's important like this. If he really did have a concussion, he was only making things worse running around working a case like this but what other choice did they have?

Just before they can give the wall a final shove and leave the room, Hattori steps back from it and since Conan is on his shoulders- takes him too. He looks around where they'd been sitting and then checked as quickly as he could if it had been kicked somewhere nearby. Cursing, he finally had to give up on it since he didn't see it and their time was running out, but he was reluctant to do that.

"Kazuha's going to kill me," he sighed and then went back to the wall to shove it the rest of the way open.

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Conan rides on Heiji's shoulder through the search with thinly veiled exasperation. "I didn't see it earlier." Although Hattori usually kept it under his shirt, so he couldn't say for sure. "It's possible you lost it during the incident in the study."

Personally he didn't put any value in superstition, but he knew the story of the omamori. And that it's true value was in the sentiment Kazuha gave to it.

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Hattori really wanted to suggest they go back to the study and look, but it wasn't risking his life and Conan's over. He'd been attacked and kidnapped, Kazuha would understand... right? He'd come back later maybe. With one last heavy sigh, he gave in.

The hallway outside was dark and the walls were made of stone. Hattori carefully set Conan down again. He wanted to reach out and keep one hand on the wall, but that would've given away how unsteady he still felt. He needed Conan to have some confidence in him and, well, he was trying to live in denial too.

Turning a corner, the room finally opened up to the wine cellar. It still had that musty smell that said no one came down here much, but there was some disturbances in the dust. As they walked by, Hattori picked up an empty bottle just in case. He might be in pain, but he wasn't going down without another fight.

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It might have been a bit awkward walking like this, considering their height difference, but Conan much preferred it over being carried. It at least allowed him to pretend that he had some dignity left.

He keeps a sharp eye on Hattori as they move down the hallway. He hadn't missed the unsteadiness in his movements.

When they finally reach the wine cellar, he takes a moment to examine the disturbances in the dust. "This is the way we were brought in," he says aloud. "Two, possibly three people. All men wearing hiking boots."

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Stop being so observant! No wait, that would hinder their investigation, drat!

Hattori agreed, looking at the patterns in the dust. There had likely been one person carrying them each and another just in case they woke up. He wasn't sure what the extra caution was, it felt like they'd given him plenty of sedatives. That gave him a thought though...

"If they were being so careful, would they have put someone at the door to keep us from coming out?" He eyed the door opposite of the hallway they'd just come out of. It was where most of the disturbed dust was, so it hardly took a genius to figure out it was the exit. "Or do you think they would've assumed we couldn't figure out the secret door?"

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"A guard is a possibility," Conan agrees. The precautions aside, the cuffs alone were proof that this group was something out of the ordinary. If they had access to equipment like this, what else did they have?

"Or they could have the exit rigged with video cameras or sensors. It wouldn't take them long to set something like that up."

He frowns at the last part. "That would depend on if they know who we are. If they thought we were just nosy kids, they might have thought that the secret door was enough security. But if they know our identities, they know your reputation." And his, although that was less important. Apart from the reputation he'd built at heists, Conan was only known as the Sleeping Kogoro's assistant.

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Hattori sighed, knowing this was more bad news. “They knew who I was. I couldn’t tell if they recognized you.” The longer they were doing this, the more he was remembered from when they were attacked.

He drew up close to the door so they could examine it for any wires or cameras. Placing his ear against it, he tried also to hear if someone was outside. He stepped back and thought about their options. “This bottle isn’t a good idea. It’ll make too much noise if it breaks.” Plus he didn’t want to risk killing the man. He glanced around for another option.

This was so bad. He had possibly a concussion and might have to fight again- while handcuffed? He found a wooden rod instead which was more his style anyway. “Ok, ready for this Conan-kan.”

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Conan frowns at his locked right hand. With that, using his shoes and belt would be almost impossible in the middle of a fight. Instead he transfers his watch to his left hand. At a close distance he should still be able to hit something.

He nods at Hattori. "Go ahead."

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Hattori really wished he had his charm. He cautiously opened the door and just as he peeked around it, he quickly blocked a punch with the door- knocking into Conan a bit. He cursed and then shoved the door open wider, shoving the guard back enough to get out of the cellar

The thug was an ugly, large brute with a shaved head. Hattori was quick to lash out with the rod. It broke against the man’s shoulder with a crack that didn’t sound like just the wood.

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Conan stumbles back when Hattori knocks into him, but quickly recovers and follows after him. He keeps himself low as Hattori swings the rod, half dragged and half running in an attempt to keep up without slowing down his movement.

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the guard held his arm as it hung limply out of socket. It should’ve been the perfect moment for a knockout blow that he normally could do. Unfortunately, he was trying instead to make the room stop spinning in a hunched position. Sweat was breaking out on his face as he fought to regain control.

The man smirked and pulled out a gun. Aiming it at the panting older boy, he cocked it. The little kid was ignored.

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Not good. Conan had spent most of the fight up till now being dragged and tossed around by the cuff on his hand. When Hattori stops, he has barely a moment to collect himself before seeing the gun pointed at the apparently older boy. In the same moment as Conan realizes that there was no way Hattori could avoid the shot in his current condition, he is aiming and firing his sedative dart directly at the guard.

Even aiming left handed, from this distance he couldn't miss.

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Was this it? Was this how he was going to die? He was going to be responsible for Conan’s death too because he’d be like an anchor if he fell. Why hadn’t he told Kazuha he loved her?

The gun went off and he braced for pain. Only it wasn’t Hattori that cried out. Blinking, he looked down at his feet and the thug had a needle protruding from his forehead.

The sudden relief was too much and Hattori stepped a step or two away from Conan and dropped to his knees. Holding his head, he gagged and threw up.

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Conan was silently judging Heiji. He'd known he wasn't up to his usual standards, but there was a difference between that, and getting into a kendo fight in that condition. If he'd know his condition was that bad, they could have figured out a different solution.

"Feeling any better?" he says dryly.

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Hattori shot Conan a scowling look before struggling to get back on his feet. “I’d like to see you try that with a concussion!” Or whatever was going on with him. Both possibilities could be making him sick depending on how much drugs he was given.

“Let’s hurry, someone had to have heard that gun go off.”

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Conan scowls right back. "You could have mentioned that you were that badly off. If we run into anything else I'm using a soccerball."

Relying on Hattori's kendo skills was too risky when he could barely walk.

He shakes his head, and attempts to help Hattori up. "Agreed. The sooner we get out of here the better."

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“Why? The brilliant Conan-kan can’t deduce it on his own?” He teased and held the wall for another moment before they could get moving. “And since when would you admit being bad off?”

Now wasn’t the time for this but it gave him something to focus on besides his splitting headache and nausea. “But I call dibs if we need to throw up on someone...” That was close enough to admitting he was really sick wasn’t it?

He scooped up the knocked out man’s gun and hurried as fast as Conan and him could go. He hated that Conan was faster than he was right now. They come to the stairs and about halfway up is a door. There are faint sounds further ahead of heavy footsteps.

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"We're not talking about me right now," Conan points out irritably. "Just try to keep from getting any worse." At the back of his mind was the sure knowledge that if Hattori got further injured and couldn't walk out of here, there was nothing he could do. He had no chance of getting him away from here on his own.

At the sound of footsteps, Conan bends over awkwardly and stretches his left hand around his right foot to reach the dial. He carefully turns it, then straightens up and allows his free right hand to hover just over the controls on his belt.

He nods at Hattori to signal he was ready.

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"I"m doing my best," he muttered under his breath. There was only so much he could do in his given situation. If he did get worse, it wouldn't be for a lack of effort trying to prevent it.

Hattori stood back and got ready to simply follow Conan with his movements so he didn't hinder his friend. It was difficult given the much smaller size of his companion, but he was determined not to mess this up.

Just at the top of their stairwell, the footsteps split off. Two sets of footsteps went the opposite direction and only one continued towards them. Just as a large, long haired man came into view, Hattori recognized him as one of the attackers from before.

The man had a gun and flashlight as he approached, not yet seeing them.