Dictated

[modernholmes]

 [If anyone has happened to run into Conan over the last few days they might have noticed that he's been a little sluggish in his responses.    That his voice has been hoarse and that he seems to be sneezing a lot.  Not that anyone has had much chance to talk to him with all the running around he's been doing this week.

What is a cold compared to all the things there were to investigate here?  

Whatever this illness was, Conan had been determined to ignore it.  With the result that this wasn't just a cold anymore.  

It is the dizziness and coughing that at last force Conan to accept that he needs to rest.  He reaches out for the journal and dictates into it in a  hoarse and stuffed up voice.]

I think I'm a little sick.  If anyone needs me I'm going to be in my room.

Comments

[atadiscoverer]

Thank you, now back to bed. I'm going to run a full scan.

[And you thought he was making the scanner up. He has the device in his hand]

[modernholmes]

Is that really necessary?

[He eyes the device skeptically, but heads back over to the bed.]

[atadiscoverer]

[Carson pulls out a notepad and moves over]

Judging from that cough, aye, I'd say it is.

[modernholmes]

[He awkwardly climbs up onto the bed and reaches for the tissues.]

[atadiscoverer]

[Carson starts to scan Conan's body, making notes in a language that looks like this, and a corresponding translation]

I'm getting a few odd readings...

[modernholmes]

[Conan stiffens at the comment and leans over to try to see the notes.]

Ah, really? That isn't a good thing, right?

[atadiscoverer]

[Unfortunately, that part of the notes is still untranslated.]

No. Not usually.

It's picking up...Something.

[modernholmes]

Something?

[It takes all of Conan's acting skills to keep any of his panic from showing in his voice or expression.]

[atadiscoverer]

This is very strange...

You're just feeling cold-like symptoms, aye?

[modernholmes]

Mmm, it just feels like a bad cold!

[atadiscoverer]

The scanner is picking up some trace signs of something... It's not recognising the substance, which is a wee bit odd.

[modernholmes]

[Okay, definitely panicking now. Haibara was going to kill him.]

Maybe it's an error?

[atadiscoverer]

No, there's nothing wrong.

[He taps a few commands on the device, more notes written down in that same language.]

[modernholmes]

Ne, how does that device work?

[atadiscoverer]

Internal power supply with a genetic security coding.

[That's said completelty natural]

[modernholmes]

...Genetic?

[This was not good.]

[atadiscoverer]

Aye. Only possessors of the ATA Gene can use it.

[He frowns slightly.]

These readings...They don't match your age.

[modernholmes]

Ah, really? That's odd.

[Attempt at distraction and figuring out a valid lie failed.]

[atadiscoverer]

Is there something you're not telling me?

[Suspicious Carson is suspicious]

[modernholmes]

Why would I be hiding something?

[atadiscoverer]

Sensitive. Maybe something happened.

[Those notes on what he's found? Still haven't been translated.]

All I know is that something has altered your genetic code. And this something is not on the Ancient Database, or on the additions we made on Earth drugs and conditions.

[modernholmes]

[Inwardly Conan curses as he forces his mind to work past the fever. Haibara might be furious with him for this, but he could not allow another person to put themselves at risk.]

...Stop.

[For the first time he looks at Dr. Carson without manipulating his body language to mimic a child. His expression,and his stillness, none of it belonged on any child. This was serious.]

Do not look into this any further. I know what it is, and I won't allow anyone else to get involved.

[atadiscoverer]

Whatever this thing is, it's altered your genetic code. This is nothing I can just leave alone.

[modernholmes]

It can't harm me any more than it already has. And there is no cure. Does it matter?

[atadiscoverer]

There's no cure in your world.