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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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.

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They'd lucked out. It was technically possible to take out more than one person with a single soccerball, and Conan had pulled it off before. But it took a bit more work with calculating ricochets than he really had time for right now.

Instead, he simply kicks the soccerball directly into the man's face, achieving an instant knock-out.

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It was a perfect kick. Hattori almost wished it hadn’t been quite so spot on except this was benefiting both of them. He grumbled something about next time Conan gets the concussion while he gets to show off.

Instead of lingering though, he hurried as quickly as he could up the rest of the stairs. It wouldn’t be long before their escape was discovered. A hallway to the main floor opened up and he still moved quickly but more cautiously down it. He leaned down to Conan. “Is it worth trying to get those documents upstairs or think we can prove his guilt without it?”

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"Don't wish a concussion on me," Conan grumbles back at him. He runs after him, being half dragged up a few of the stairs when his short legs can't quite keep up.

He pauses a moment in thought. "I hate to say it, but we're going to need them if we want to prove the connection. Embezzlement is too difficult to prove without the evidence on hand. Especially when its a family member."

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Hattori stuck his tongue out at Conan playfully. Yes, even in a situation like this the Osakan could still find humor.

The handcuffs were getting really annoying. He wanted to hurry as fast as he could, but also not trip Conan up. Would it be faster just to carry him?

Hearing a couple loud angry voices from the bottom of the stairs, Hattori scooped Conan up and bolted towards another stairwell leading to the second floor. If he remembered right, it was on the east side of the house with windows over looking the ruins of the family gardens. Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he ducked them both into a room after hearing another, much lighter set of foot steps coming from further down the hall.

The room turned out to be a guest bedroom that had seen far better days. Hattori put Conan down and whispered, "I think it's a servant. Do you remember which door is the study?"

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For once, he couldn't really object to being carried.Clearly, walking on his own was not working with the handcuffs on.

Conan listens intently to the fading sound of footsteps before he answers.

"Should be second on the left from here. There was a window overlooking the gardens."

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“Let’s get the papers and then climb out the window. I think I can use the curtains to get down most of the way if you climb on my back.” He thought that might work. He’d be partially one handed climbing down but it was better than attempting to get out the front door. It was possible a better solution would present itself inside the room too.

When he got the okay from Conan that he was ready, he crept down the hall. He got to the door and scowled when it was locked. He patted his pockets and huffed. “They took my stuff. Do you have your pick?”

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"Seems like it. I think all they took from me was the phone."

One of the few benefits of his appearance was how often he was underestimated.

He quickly extracts his lockpicks from his jacket pocket and passes them over to Hattori. Since his right hand was still free, he'd have an easier time using them.

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Hattori said a quick thanks and within a few moments got the door open. Cautiously, he opened the door and checked inside. Giving Conan a nod, he opened the door wider and let them both inside.
He locked the door behind them as a precaution.

On the floor was some visible signs of a scuffle where they'd been attacked. Blood stained the carpet that was most likely Hattori's. On the desk was the dark skinned boy's wallet, keys, and the few other random items he kept in his pockets- all except the charm.

He cursed under his breath and looked around the room. He didn't prevent Conan from going for the paperwork, but he was distracted.

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Conan had his priorities, and finding the evidence was currently at the top of the list. Fortunately the chain was just long enough to let him reach the desk drawers, and he quickly starts rummaging through them and collecting the papers they needed.

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Eventually Hattori had to focus on the task at hand instead of looking for the elusive charm. Since they didn't both need to be gathering the documents, he started to plot a way out of there.

"Ku- er- Conan-kun," Hattori began, tripping over his name again. "Hurry up so I can get to work on those drapes. They're definitely thick enough for us to use as rope. We just need to be sure no one can see us when we crawl out of here."