Death Owns a Flower Shop, part 1

A/N: Sorry for submitting so late. To Chaos in a Box, who has to endure this fic and its wip-ness. (blobhelp)

Shinichi happened to be passing by when he met her, around a corner a couple blocks down the police headquarters, where a flower shop opened almost a week ago. Something about the shop rooted him there, intuition tingling at his back, as he stood long enough at the shop front for the florist to sneak up on him.

“Flowers for you?” the florist asked as she appeared right beside him.

Shinichi jolted from his place and swivelled around to face her before putting a few more inches between them as is polite.

“Sorry, I was just looking around.”

The florist hummed, casting him a small smile. “Come inside,” she said as she bent down to pick up a bucket of lilies next to Shinichi’s feet.

There was very little resistance from Shinichi when he followed her in, spurred on by gut feeling. He watched the florist walk over to the counter with her back toward him as she took out two to three sheets of parchment from the drawer and laid them flat on the surface.

The shop itself was quaint, white-walled and well-lit, not any different from the previous shops Shinichi has been to. Until Shinichi zeroed in on the florist and realised the uncanny way the shop centred around her, the way the light bent, the flowers faced, all in her direction.

“Are you alright?”

Shinichi blinked and found the florist looking back at him, holding two stems of sprightly-looking yellow roses that she likely plucked from the bucket of other yellows next to the counter.

“I’m fine,” he said as he swallowed down the ball of sudden hair-raising anxiety. And strapped with not knowing what to do with himself, he asked, “Did you need help with something?”

The florist hummed loud enough for him to hear her, but not turning to meet his gaze as she went on with her ministrations. The silence stretched for an agonising minute.

“Not quite.”

Shinichi could somehow hear the smile in her voice, as she reached up her hand over to the set of ribbons hanging above the counter, index finger hovering over the different thickness and colours, before pulling and snipping a good length of the thick brown one. And in a matter of minutes since Shinichi stepped into the shop, the florist turned, fashioned bouquet in her arms, and sauntered over to him.

“For you,” the florist smiled, extending her arms as she offered the bouquet to him. “You don’t have to worry about paying, it’s free.”

—

The house sat quiet and empty when Shinichi shut the door behind him.

Padding toward the living room, Shinichi set the box of takeout on the table and even more gently with the bouquet just as he made his way to one of the cabinets to retrieve a large vase.

The next few minutes or so passed by in meditative silence, in which Shinichi spent unwrapping the bouquet. He revelled in the simple motion of pulling the ribbon loose, how smoothly it came undone, before he moved the flowers into the vase gently so as to keep them from bruising. The bouquet was a simple assortment of lighthearted colours, and Shinichi found them appealing despite the lilies. So white that for a moment Shinichi wondered if the florist even knew what they meant.

He liked them anyway. It would be hard not to.

Pushing away his thoughts for later, and there would be time for that, Shinichi crossed the living room to put the vase atop the sideboard, wiping the dust off its surface with the sleeve of his shirt, and placed the vase right where an old photograph of a family of four used to be. And that brought a dull ache to his chest. But there was little use yearning for things he couldn’t change. Because for all his brilliance and his man-made miracles, Shinichi knew intimately that he could only do so little.

He turned on his heel, sinking into the couch, watching the flowers bathe under the sunset before he fell away to dreaming.

—

Nearly three hours later, Shinichi woke up to the company of Elena Miyano.

“Shinichi-kun,” Elena started, surprise colouring her voice and looking far more rugged than when he saw her last. “I’m sorry,” she continued, putting away her doctor’s bag on one of the couches adjacent to him. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No, it’s fine,” Shinichi said, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes. “I should’ve called.”

Elena smiled back before looking in the direction of the kitchen. “It’s late. I hope you don’t mind waiting a little longer for dinner.”

“Actually,” Shinichi leaned forward, reaching for the box on the table. “I got us something to eat if you don’t mind takeout.”

—

Dinner went by without much fuss. Most of the passing conversation had been about work, about colleagues, the weather. Most of the time, the conversation would die without thought, the minutes trickling away in silence. It hadn’t exactly been uncomfortable. But the lingering tension was there, small as it was, waiting on the chance that one of them would broach the topic.

Elena knew how to be patient, her thoughtfulness characteristic of her.

Upended by his anxiety, it’s Shinichi who took the leap.

“How is she?”

Elena looked up from her plate and smiled weakly. “The same as always.”

“I see.” Shinichi didn’t know why he bothered asking. Had anything happened, it was either him or Elena who would be the first to know.

“Won’t you come see her?”

“Tomorrow.” Shinichi got up from his seat, but Elena stopped him short of leaving the table with a gentleness Shinichi needed hearing.

“I saw the flowers,” Elena said to him softly, leading Shinichi to look at her under the dim lighting of the kitchen, and, for once, smiled happy if only just a little bit. “They’re lovely.”

Shinichi managed to return the smile as he worked through the grimace. “I got them for free.”

A small silence passed between them, the tension much lighter than it was after Shinichi had asked.

“Thank you for doing this. To tell you the truth, it’s been a little lonely, here by myself.”