Author's Note: So this started as a basic challenge to myself to do two things: 1. write a multi-chaptered story, and 2. write something with Mello as the "main character." Not really so much him the main character, and not really his POV because I don't like writing first-person stories, but you get the point. Every other story I've done/started has Matt in that role. I don't know why, I can just write him better. Maybe because if I were to be a character, I'd be him. We're both smokers and gamers with a 'fuck if I care' attitude and a dry/sarcastic sense of humor. The only thing I really have in common with Mello is that I'm blonde and can totally also be a giant bitch. In other, ACTUALLY IMPORTANT story info, this is starting off a little weird. I like the concept of this story I have going on and the shit I have written for later A LOT, but this beginning thing is just to sort of ease into it and create a general mood for the whole thing. The story is not going to be like this the entire time, with random, kind of funny but generally stupid cases. There is going to be one, and it is going to bring our little heroes (anti-heroes?) traveling around a lot. I just have to get there first. Give me a chapter or two. I have an actual game plan for this story too, so updates might actually be in my future for once. The M rating is for later on, ps. This is slightly AU and I get the feeling also slightly OOC. Apologies. Sorry this thing was so damn long.

Disclaimer: There's quite a few things I need to disclaim here. Firstly, I don't own Death Note or anything remotely affiliated with it. Secondly, I don't own the fucking title to my own damn story. It's a quote. From Sherlock Holmes. This first case in this chapter is also in a way belonging with that disclaimer, as it is an illusion to another quote. From Sherlock Holmes. I can't help it - I major in lit and writing - you can probably find about a hundred allusions in this story and maybe a hundred more that were completely unintentional. Thirdly, I should probably disclaim this plotline. I would love to say the idea is mine, but honestly, I know it's been done before. Haven't read it on this site, but I'm sure it's been done somewhere. And I got the idea for this after finishing Crooked Little Vein by Warren Ellis, so I'm sure the influence is there in my mind. And if that third little disclaimer doesn't answer anyone's question of "is this going to be wildly inappropriate?" The answer is - yes, it is.

The entire Holmes quote, if anyone is interested is, "[...] when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth" Too long to fit into a title, I think. might have yelled at me and foiled my plans of long-winded-ness like it did with my summary. Oh well.

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Title: Whatever Remains, However Improbable . . .

Author: Rinolia

Mello was bored. Not just the regular, let's-think-up-ways-to-make-fun-of-Near bored, he was murderously bored. And it wasn't just a one time deal either; he fucking hated his life.

Currently, the twenty-year-old blonde was sitting at his desk in the first floor of the house him and Matt were renting. They had made the first floor of their house an office area, while they lived up in the second floor. Mello was also staring woefully at the mess that was his desk. There were coffee rings all over the surface, but get serious, he lived too dangerously to worry about coasters. There were also a few cigarette burns marring the surface 'cause Matt was a jerk, and one of the bottom drawers was missing the front part of itself, which included the handle, which made Mello have to reach in and grab the actual wood (that's what she said) every time he wanted to open the drawer, which usually entailed him getting his fingers caught, swearing loudly, and spilling something all over the papers on his desk.

He REALLY fucking hated his life. He had been living this way for about six months now, ever since L decided to retire from the detective life in favor of fucking Kira (legitimately – having sex with Light Yagami), and had named NEAR as his successor. Fucking NEAR. So Mello had decided to start his own little detective agency – and took Matt along for the fun of it. Matt hadn't even realized what was going on until the plans were halfway in motion when he finally looked up from whatever game he was playing and asked what was going on. He had probably only looked up to find a cigarette, too. At first he thought Mello was trying to get him to marry him, what with the lease for a house in front of him, and when he found out it was only a detective agency, he decided that was one of the better scenarios, and signed the damn thing.

Muttering about how much he hated everything, Mello opened up a bag of Lindt chocolate balls. That's how much his life sucked. He didn't even have a bar of chocolate to bite into ferociously. He only had little individually wrapped balls that were gooey on the inside. Because Matt was the worst sidekick known to man. All the same, Mello would sometimes put little placards that said "sidekick" or "secretary" on Matt's desk, because even if it never really annoyed Matt, Mello liked to pretend it did just so he could have a chuckle at someone else's expense. The only good thing about all of it was that he was legally allowed to carry his gun around. Although, having a gun license made him feel a little less badass. But he did still have his Russian accent, which made anything he said sound more badass.

Mello put his booted feet up on his desk, and directed his attention to Matt, who was sitting across the room at his own desk, on the laptop.

"Did we get any e-mails?"

Matt didn't even look up. "E-mails for what?"

"You know damn fucking well what kind of e-mails I'm talking about, douchebag. The ones with JOBS in them."

"Hm. Well, I did get an e-mail from someone who wanted me to enlarge my penis, but I don't think they'd pay me for that. Unless they'd pay me AFTER I got it done to have sex with them," Matt looked thoughtfully away from the computer, the light reflecting in his goggles.

"I am going to castrate you."

"You know damn well I'm not checking our e-mail, Mel."

"Then what the fuck are you doing?! And have been doing for the past two hours?!"

"WoW, duh."

Mello wasn't even doing to dignify that with a response. But he did resort to popping another Lindt ball in his mouth, making sure it was wet enough, and then shooting it across the room at Matt. He was not rewarded with any kind of reaction.

He was about to repeat the gesture again, when someone walked in through the front door to their "office." Mello used to take his feet off his desk and try to portray some semblance of professionalism when people walked in through his door, but he stopped caring a while ago. Probably when ninety-five percent of the people who walked in were looking for the orthodontist's next door. And then there was that one time some kid had walked in and wanted them to help him find his missing weed. He told them he'd smoke them up if they found it. They had found it in about ten minutes in the kid's car, and said car was fish bowled in another ten.

This person, however, was neither looking for the orthodontist or their weed, as it was a fifty-something, well-dressed lady.

Mello merely raised an eyebrow and asked "Can we help you?"

"The sign outside says you're detectives – is that right? Oh god, please let it be right," She sounded quite frazzled as she looked between Matt and Mello.

Matt outright ignored her, but Mello nodded his head slowly, so she planted her skirt suit-ed ass in the folding chair in front of his desk, lifting her handbag to place it on his desk, but once she carefully looked at it, thought better of it and instead perched the pink monstrosity on her lap.

"My baby just finished her competition and had won best in show when suddenly she just disappeared! I think someone kidnapped her!" The woman went off without even the slightest question of what happened.

Mello looked at her for a second, and then took his feet off his desk and went on a search for his notebook to write this down in. Sure, it was the kidnapping of some beauty pageant contestant with a crazy ass mother, but it was the most exciting case he'd gotten in, well, forever. And rent was due in a few days.

When Mello realized his legal pads were all in the drawer with the broken door, he sighed and set himself up for disaster. And it came. Why where his legal pads in the most inconvenient drawer inhabiting his desk? Because that's how much he got to use them. He got his fingers caught along the sides about five times before he finally grasped a corner and pulled the drawer out, only to get his finger nicked on the edge of the desk where the door had been previously.

"Mother fucking cocksucker!" He screeched, putting his injured finger to his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Matt snickering, and in front of him the woman looked appalled.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled half-heartedly because he really wasn't sorry and he wanted this bitch to know he could swear however much he wanted in his own office, but he apologized anyway and finally took a notepad out. "Okay, so when did this happen?"

"Earlier today. The show ended at about eleven," The woman explained.

"Okay, and where was this show?"

"At the park on Main Street."

Mello held back the weird look he knew was about to grace his face, as who the fuck held a beauty pageant in a park? He shrugged it off and wrote down the details.

"Okay, now what's your daughter's name?"

"I'm so glad you understand the importance of my baby. Her name is Candy."

"How old is she?"

"She'll be turning four in a few weeks . . ."

"And what was she wearing when she went missing?"

"She had a pink bow in her hair."

"And what else?"

"Nothing else, the judges don't like when they have clothes on."

Mello didn't even bother to hide the look on his face this time. What kind of fucked up shit was he getting himself into? Four-year-olds participating in beauty pageants outside in the nude? He looked across the room at Matt, who had abandoned the use of the laptop and now had his head down on his desk, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Mello got the feeling he was missing out on something.

"Uh . . . all right, then. What does she look like?"

"Well, she's a white Pomeranian."

Mello stared at this woman. And then continued to stare some more for good measure. And then finally he said, "Oh fuck no. Who do I look like, Ace Ventura?" The pencil he was writing with snapped against the legal pad and Matt finally couldn't help himself and was laughing out loud.

"I'll give you all the money we won for the show if you find her," The woman pleaded.

At this, Matt stopped laughing and was looking interestedly at the woman. Mello glared over her shoulder at him and said, "We don't want your fifty dollars."

"It was a thousand."

Mello sighed, "I don't care . . ." and was about to add, 'I'm not finding a fucking dog. I have more respect for myself than that' when he got interrupted.

"I do care, we have to find this dog! It is our job as detectives to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves! To speak for those who cannot speak for themselves! And what is a more perfect example of something defenseless and in dire need of our help if not a helpless, ADORABLE dog," Matt said and got up from his desk and sat on the corner of Mello's, grinning at the woman. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Mello got up and left the room. Yep, he definitely fucking hated his life.

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Please review!

And also, if someone could please explain the etiquette of this review response thing, it would be much appreciated. I'm about 99% sure it did not exist years ago when I was writing on this site previously, and I have no idea what to do with it. I mean, I understand what it does, but am I supposed to respond to every review just with a simple 'thank you' or just to the ones I actually have something substantial to say to, or ones in which a question was posed? Any help would be appreciated - I hate being rude.