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Language:
English
Series:
Part 3 of 29 Days of Made-Up Cases
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Published:
2025-10-06
Words:
1,080
Chapters:
1/1
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2
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33

The Clean, Unruly Adventure

Summary:

Ryunosuke gets up in the morning to, hopefully, find work.

Chaos ensues.

//
“Ah,” Susato sighed beside him, crossing her legs properly. “Do you have any idea why he would, possibly, have stolen my toothbrush?”
//

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

“Mr. Naruhodo! Wherever did mine—and your—toothbrush vanish to!?” A woman’s voice called from deeper into the house, beyond the halfwall. “It never is a normal day in this household-“ she stopped, staring at the other man who was kissing a paper’s edge. “Whatever are you doing?”

 

“Good morning to you too, Miss Susato.” Ryunosuke lowered the letter, focusing his attention to a slightly unkempt Susato, which wasn’t a usual sight…though…with his a-spike-too-many hair, having not yet have changed into his deeply loved—which was physically evident from the amount of loose-ends—black uniform, and no Karuma in sight, he mustn’t look much better. “I was only responding to Soseki-San; he wrote again.”

 

Her once furrowed eyebrows softened to genuine curiosity, stepping into the office space, “Oh? Has anything else happened to him?” Soseki-San did, truly, have horrid luck, somehow worse than Ryunosuke himself…

 

“No, beside his kitten vomiting often, he just wrote another book named…” the lawyer glanced over to his messy desk, piles of law books in the corner while everything else was who-knows-what, "'Shorten Bread and Its To-Be.” He felt the glimpse of concern from behind him, “He included a verse from it.”

 

“I am…curious. Please, go on.” His assistant’s eyes were somehow even more worried than how he imagined, and only deepened when he opened his mouth.

 

Clearing his throat, “‘Bread to-see, bread-to-be, or am I just a short-handed fool to-see?’ is the main idea…supposedly.” Ryunosuke looked up from the letter written, eyeing his own once more—which didn’t disclose how he felt about the poem, of course—making sure nothing was as…outlandish.

 

A hand covering her mouth in shock, Susato was knocked speechless (not for long, though, of course), “Are you sure he isn’t referencing his height?”

 

Soseki-San was decently short, from what the lawyer remembered, at least. “Perhaps poetry has made him physically grow,”

 

“…I really don’t believe that is possible.” This time, the concern was fired at Ryunosuke, which was nothing special, really…it often was. “You still haven’t said anything about our toothbrushes.”

 

Glancing up at the raised eyebrow and widened stance of Susato, while slipping his paper into a nice, clean, envelope, he recalled the first few minutes of his day, “Yes, well, you might want to ask Mr. Sholmes, actually.”

 

“For what reason?”

 

He braced himself for a Susato Takedown, placing his letter down onto his desk to protect it, “He asked me this morning if he could take them.”

 

The silence from the other was palpable as multiple reactions played through her face, “And…you let him?”

 

“I-I,” he stammered, “I had just woken up!”

 

“And that makes you agree to theft!?”

 

“Apparently!”

 

Ryunosuke felt that the floor was more welcoming than the rest of that conversation.

 

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

 

Upon opening the attic door, the scent of bacon and herbal smoke nearly choked the young man—who had finally dressed appropriately—as he descended down the stairs with Susato to his side.

 

“Good morning, Susie! Runo!” A young voice said, a few pink braids smiling alongside the beaming face. “Breakfast is almost done!”

 

“Good morning, Iris. It smells wonderful,” making her way to the base of the steps, the woman looked to the desk of the great detective. “Do you know where Mr. Sholmes?”

 

“Hurhely left earlier,” Iris shrugged behind the kitchen stove, a cry of bacon echoing her voice. Ryunosuke settled on the luxurious coach, with the fine china cups and a single, hard-working kettle brewing. The curve of the coach—having a weird hat-like top—always intrigued the man, but he found it difficult to ask Mr. Sholmes about it. “He always pops out when breakfast is done, though.”

 

“Ah,” Susato sat beside him, crossing her legs properly. “Do you have any idea why he would, possibly, have stolen my toothbrush?”

 

As if on cue, the front door to the quaint, yet lively, house was bursted open, revealing the man-of-the-hour dresses in his usual tan jacket. “That, my dear madam, is confidential!” Herrlock Sholmes announced, practically dancing over with a finger to his cap.

 

“Since when were toothbrushes confidential?” Ryunosuke leaned over to Susato, who merely gave a shrug in response.

 

The woman tilted her head to the man slipping his jacket off, “However am I supposed to brush my teeth, then?”

 

With a clink of a pipe falling into its holder, Sholmes spun in front of the two on the coach, “To not fret yourself, I’ll make arrangements to guarantee your dental hygiene!” The great detective curled his lip upward, “It will be no issue, for I know a dentist very well.”

 

The lawyer sat back into the cushion, his own legs crossing to match the woman beside him, ‘just who didn’t Mr. Sholmes know at this point?’ he pondered, thinking back to Lord Stronghart, Inspector Gregson, and…probably more people than Ryunosuke can count in English!

 

“It’s apart of the job,” Susato responded, turning her head to him, “he is tested on the public everyday.”

 

Ryunosuke blinked, “Sorry, was I thinking too loud?”

 

“When do you don’t?”

 

“That, my dear fellow, is not a mystery!” He spun around to poke Ryunosuke in the forehead, “Never! It’s a wonder that Mr. Reaper doesn’t take advantage of that,” Mr. Sholmes recoiled to where he once stood, calm and collected as always.

 

“Indeed,” she agreed, bowing her head to hide an amused smile.

 

Ryunosuke really was the butt of every joke in this household…

 

“Breakfast!” The young girl called, dropping four plates on the table and plopping herself onto the chair. “Don’t eat so fast this time, Runo, you’re like Wagahai.” Iris’ legs swayed on the velvet cushion, the certain mentioned feline sleeping soundly on top.

 

He slumped, “I don’t vomit out like he does…” At least, though, the plated bacon with his favorite, delectable jam smeared atop crispy toast. Looking at the different plates crowded on the chest, you can tell everyone’s preferred toast: Susato having a mere square of butter upon its skin, Sholmes having an obscene amount of butter smeared on his, and young Iris with grape jam. It just goes to show her consideration.

 

“This was quite delicious, dear Iris.” Mr. Sholmes, having practically downed his entire plate, stood from the floor—as all other seats were taken, “But I must wonder…have I ever told you two fellows the name of my dentist friend?”

 

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

Notes:

What even is this, I ask myself, looking at whatever I wrote in an hours time. I’m in a pitch black room, writing this, on a Sunday night. Sigh. I have testing tomorrow, actually.

 

(Oh well)

I meant to get to some plot in this one, but eh, I’ll leave it here for now. I hope this is in character.

Symbol of the day: ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)

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