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Working for the Pinkerton National Detective Agency without a doubt made one an international traveller, Sherlock thought as he walked through the streets of Yokohama.
When he heard that he'd be briefly stationed for a stint in Japan, he'd thought that it would be in the heart of the capital, or another bustling prefecture like Osaka or Kyoto.
Yokohama was nice though, far surpassing his expectations.
Situated a ways out of central Tokyo, its skyline brought together a mix of Asian and European architecture. Some parts of it even reminded Sherlock of London as he meandered through the streets. A small smile grew over his face as he walked along the busy avenues.
Liam would more than certainly like it here.
He'd like the sense of order, that was for certain. He loved the man dearly, but their conflicting opinions of what counted as a clean space had on some occasions driven them to…discuss things intensely.
Maybe, one day, when this was all over they could come here on holiday or as part of…something else.
The level of dedication that the Pinkertons had pushed him to to train for this job was far beyond what was normally required - though, he supposed it made sense. It would make it difficult if he was a mostly English speaker in a country where that wasn't the dominant language.
To be honest, he was surprised that he had even been sent so far away. He would have expected to have to learn French, for sorting out the state of affairs following the conflict with the German states, perhaps.
Though, after it had been explained to him, it did make sense for him to learn Japanese with heightening tensions between Japan and China.
The Agency had even suggested that they might have him move over to Hong Kong to observe the state of affairs there with a potential leasing agreement with the British.
Regardless of what was to come in the future, the important fact was that the Pinkertons had sent him to learn about a semi-nonofficial government organisation known as the Armed Detective Agency, or the ADA as it was more commonly known. A group of elite, highly intelligent individuals dedicated to keeping the city safe.
Additionally, he'd been told to investigate more into the organisation known as the Port Mafia - word had come that they were involved in sending shipments of dangerous goods to America.
There had been much muttering and discussing when he'd asked more about the ADA. When he'd tried to inquire further though, he was curtly told that he didn't have the security clearance for it.
A commotion sounded from a ways over, shouting and bells echoing throughout the streets, catching his attention, snapping him out of his thoughts.
His head quickly turned towards the commotion, his detective instincts starting to fire up as his pace changed from an amble to a brisk walk.
A fuss of that scale was practically a summons to go and have a nosy, wasn't it?
— — —
A group of officers were standing around talking to a couple of shaken up looking people. The area had been cordoned off with rope, and a couple of muscular officers were standing in front of it, scowling at anyone who tried to come near who wasn't with the police.
Sherlock spotted one woman in particular gesturing wildly, a police officer frantically scribbling on a notepad everything that she was saying.
As Sherlock approached, more and more people started to stare at him. He ignored the looks of the stronger officers as he stepped closer to the scene.
A police officer on the younger side was sent scurrying over to intercept Sherlock with a bark from one of the more senior officers. "Sir," he started, puffing out his chest.
Sherlock simply reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a badge and showed it to the man. "I have clearance," he said simply.
He watched the man deflate as he stepped past him and closer to the scene. Two officers - investigators, to be more specific - were examining the body and the crime scene carefully. Sherlock walked up to one of them.
"Good afternoon, sir. I was in the area, and I happened to hear a disturbance. Might I inquire as to what happened?
The formality was unlike how Sherlock normally spoke, and he would be the first to admit that something inside him died a little at having to speak so properly.
God, he was turning into Mycroft. The horror. The horror.
The investigator to the right seemed startled at Sherlock's presence (as well as his level of Japanese), but collected himself, straightening himself up.
"There was a body discovered forty five minutes ago, sir, and we arrived fifteen minutes after that. We're currently collecting witness statements of people who were in the vicinity and beginning our examination of the crime scene, but we haven't been able to find much, since we're still so early on in the process ."
Sherlock nodded. This was a good chance to stretch his detective skills. And maybe do a little bit of data collecting. "As it so happens, I'm a private detective. I could take a look if you want."
The police officer who had approached him earlier piped up excitedly from behind him, making Sherlock jump. "Ah! A private detective agency! The Armed Detective Agency, yes? Come, come. Your help is well appreciated. Even if they weren't able to send out Mr Edogawa, any help from an organisation as prestigious as yours is well wanted."
Sherlock walked over with the officer - who was a junior, as his name badge clearly stated now that Sherlock got a better look at it - and began to examine the scene, gears spinning in his head. In the briefing on the Armed Detective Agency, he'd learned that Ranpo Edogawa was probably the most intelligent of them all - news of his feats had spread even to America.
It probably wasn't the worst thing that they thought he was associated with them. It could allow him access to more resources at the scene.
Speaking of the scene, saying it was grisly was the understatement of the century. Blood marred the pavement in every direction from the victim's body. Limbs were bent at highly unnatural angles, head snapped to the side almost a hundred and eighty degrees.
Sherlock leaned down to get a proper look at the person - a man, though it was hard to tell - their face had also been significantly damaged, lacerations stretching up and down, skin reduced almost to ribbons.
"Has the weapon been found?" Sherlock asked, not looking up from the body. "Not yet," the officer replied. "We're still investigating the scene, sir. It'll take us time."
"No it won't!" a high pitched voice piped up from behind the two. Three people approached the scene - a young man with white hair and a horrendous haircut, a teenage girl dressed in a kimono, and a man in his mid twenties with a brown newsboy cap.
Sherlock furrowed his brow at the trio. The investigator did as well.
The man in the newsboy cap produced some sort of sweet on a stick from his pocket, beginning to suck on it.
He skipped past where Sherlock was standing, leaning down to get properly up close and personal with the body, eyes roaming over it with great fascination. Sherlock spared a look at the two associates who had come with him, but they both seemed entirely nonplussed at his behaviour.
The man stared at the scene for a long moment, before reaching into his pocket and whipping out a pair of glasses and yelling "Super Deduction!"
The investigator next to Sherlock gasped, turning to him. "Sir, why didn't you say that your associates were coming! The great detective Ranpo Edogawa can solve any case presented to him!"
"That I can," the man - Edogawa - said, a little smugly, as he looked at the body once more for a long moment. Sherlock barely managed to suppress a snort at the ridiculousness of what he was witnessing.
He'd heard of the man, yes - the Pinkertons had informed him about a plethora of interesting people he might encounter when he travelled to Japan. The list of people had included dignitaries, high ranking government officials, prominent criminals, and others.
Everyone from the Armed Detective Agency had been on the list, but Edogawa's name, and another man named Dazai's had been underlined. Sherlock wasn't exactly sure why it was an Armed detective agency - maybe they all had guns or something - but they were clearly significant enough to be told to watch out.
Sherlock was snapped out of his thoughts by Edogawa humming happily and stepping back, and whirling around to point at a young woman who was giving an interview to an officer close by.
"Yoo-hoo!" he called out. "Could you come over here for a moment please?"
Was this how the legal system worked in Japan?
The woman and the officer who was interviewing her approached the group. Once they were close enough Edogawa sighed, hands on his hips. "You know, I can understand wanting to get revenge for him having an affair with the next door neighbour. But poisoning him with morphine? Seriously? You know we're able to detect that now, right?"
He tutted, shaking his head.
"So many amateurs. If you're going to kill somebody and you plan it, at least have the brains to plan it out! Sheesh!"
The white haired boy who had come with Edogawa piped up. "Ranpo? Are you…meant to say that at a crime scene?" Edogawa chuffed and straightened his hat (from where it had become slightly askew). "Atsushi, the truth must come out unhindered! You should never sugar coat these things, you should know that!"
The white haired boy - Atsushi - nodded vigorously, pumping his fist. "I understand! Thank you for telling me!"
He whipped out a notepad and started to hastily scribble on it. The young girl simply sighed and took the notepad from him, making him splutter. "Kyouka! These notes are important! I gotta write down what Ranpo is saying!"
The girl fixed him with a somewhat exasperated look for a long second before sighing and handing it back to him. "Fine. But allow Kunikida to look over it when we get back to the Agency." Atsushi cocked his head, confused. "Why would I need to do that?"
Kyouka sighed again. "Just…two perspectives on a situation are always better than just one." Atsushi looked confused, but nodded with a smile.
Sherlock was watching this entire scene unfold with a look of pure incredulity on his face. He'd also worked out that it was someone close to the victim who had done it - and that it had been a fast acting drug - but for the detective to have worked out all of that? In such a short span of time?
The investigator (who he had forgotten was standing next to him) sighed almost dreamily. "You're so lucky to work alongside such a phenomenal detective, sir. What I wouldn't give to even just be an intern there…"
Sherlock coughed, remembering the lie that he'd told in order to get into the crime scene. He internally chided himself. Normally, he was much better at keeping himself in character, as it were. "Yes, yes. I'm very fortunate."
His mind drifted back to the crime scene. He could logically get to how the woman was the perpetrator of the crime - with time, of course. But something else seemed to be afoot here.
He looked around the area, pursing his lips slightly. Edogawa - Ranpo, as he was seeming to be called by his associates - seemed to be focused entirely on the situation before him.
A shifting figure further down the street caught his eye, close to where Ranpo's associates were standing. Sherlock's eyes narrowed, and he started to walk towards where the figure was standing - slowly at first, and then more quickly as the figure started to walk away as well.
From what Sherlock could see, the figure was male, with spiky black hair with two long pieces down the sides, a white face mask, tan gloves that started from just above the elbows, and a long black coat that was slightly tattered at the bottom.
Eventually the figure broke into a run, causing Sherlock to do the same, a curse on his lips. He'd meant to be able to investigate the three people from the Armed Detective Agency more, to do some recon, but that seemed to no longer be viable.
He would always prioritise the pursuit of justice, even if it meant going against orders.
Suddenly, the figure leapt up, jumping against the walls, climbing up a pipe, and disappeared over the rooftops. Sherlock swore again (much more loudly) and tried his best to follow the figure from street level, but he lost him as he started to approach the area of Yokohama where the city started to fade into the port.
He sighed, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. Great. Just great. Now he was lost in the city, and had nothing to show for it. All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of Sherlock's neck raised. His hackles went up, but he tried to stay calm, stay natural. No point in letting an unfamiliar person have an advantage.
"You seem to be out of place," a smooth voice called out. Sherlock turned calmly towards the source of it.
"Yes, I can't say I venture into this area of town very often. I was trying to meet a friend, and I got rather turned around, I'm afraid."
A figure stepped out of the shadows - a man with dark brown hair wearing a tan jacket, smiling politely at him. "I can see that. Most people who are from here wouldn't dare venture to this area of town. It's a hub of criminal activity."
Sherlock hummed, feigning surprise. He knew of this course from the briefing he'd been given, of course. But it was still interesting to hear it confirmed by someone that was clearly a local to the area.
The figure stepped closer, allowing Sherlock a better look at him. He held out his hand to Sherlock. "I'm Dazai." Sherlock smiled and took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Theodore Egart." His code name while he was abroad.
Dazai hummed. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr Egart. I'll take you back to the main area of town. Just follow me, and we'll be back there in no time at all, alright? If you come with me to my place of work, perhaps we can place a call to get you back to where ever you're staying."
Without waiting for Sherlock to reply, Dazai started to walk down the street, shoulder every so lightly brushing against Sherlock's as he did so. Sherlock's mind raced. Should he follow the man? Should he turn and head in the opposite direction to that that the man was headed in? Should he, should he, should he-
He took a deep breath, expelling all of the air in his lungs, letting his mind clear of all clutter and allowing his mind to rapidly dissect and analyse the situation.
The man knew the area. That was evident. And given the fact that the area was a hub of crime, that was something to be concerned about. However, he clearly wasn't trying to outwardly mug Sherlock, nor did he seem to be trying to lead Sherlock into a trap.
Oh well. As good a time as any for a walk.
As the landscape became more urban once more, Sherlock's thoughts were consumed by the mysterious figure who he'd seen parkour up onto the rooftops. The person had reminded him of Fred, almost.
His train of thought was interrupted by Dazai walking into a red brick building. Sherlock stared up at it for a second, before his curiosity got the better of him and he followed the man inside.
It was a hub of activity in the building. Dazai strode along though quite confidently, the complete lack of trepidation piquing Sherlock's interest even further.
Dazai pushed a door to an office, holding it open for Sherlock to enter. Once he did, he was greeted with the sight of Dazai sitting down at a table with the three people he'd seen earlier - Ranpo, Atsushi, and Kyouka - along with a redhead boy, a blond, a woman with what appeared to be purple hair with a butterfly clip, and an older man at the head of the table dressed in a kimono.
The man - the boss - gestured to the seat at the end of the table.
"Mr Holmes. Please sit. We've been expecting you."
Sherlock slowly sat, trying his best to keep his confusion off his face, as well as his trepidation about having his identity exposed to these strangers. "I appreciate the invitation, even though I didn't get it. It must have gotten lost in the post," he said, politely smiling.
Dazai folded his hands under his chin, tilting his head to the side with a grin. "Ah, you know how these things are. Mr Holmes, would I be right in saying that you are, in fact, the man who discovered the identity of the Lord of Crime who plagued London?"
Sherlock smiled politely. "I'm so sorry for the confusion. My name is actually Mr Egart. I'm a consultant for a private company."
Dazai leaned back in his chair, furrowing his brow with a smile on his face. "But, Mr Holmes, you realise that we also knew that you were coming to Japan? And that we were briefed on you as well?"
Ranpo piped up from across the table. "I found them calling me the world's greatest detective an accurate perception. I was very pleased with that."
Kyouka sighed. "We know, Ranpo."
The boss clasped his hands together in front of him. "Mr Holmes. The way we see it, there are two options here. Either you help us with an issue that we're facing, or the police will be taking you down to have a little talk."
Sherlock paused for a long moment before sighing. "Can I at least be told what the problem is."
The man nodded. "The Port Mafia, which I'm sure you know about, are shipping more and more dangerous exports. I believe you saw one of their operatives today - isn't that right, Ranpo?"
The younger man nodded vigorously. "We need you to help us, Mr Holmes, in finding out where exactly they are shipping, what they are shipping, and why."
Sherlock sighed for a long moment, considering the situation before him, before nodding. "Fine. Deal me in. I'll help."
The boss nodded, smiling. "We're glad to have you, Mr Holmes."
As a file was passed around to him, the situation starting to be explained, all Sherlock could think about was how impressed he was that William had managed to predict the situation so accurately.