“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!”

L opened the door to Watari’s office, just as a small vase was thrown; it narrowly missed his head as it collided with the wall beside him. He raised his eyebrows, glad for Mello’s less-than-perfect aim. “I heard a commotion,” he said evenly, “What seems to be the problem?”

Mello, whose furious tirade had greeted L as he entered, heaved in anger. “L, this sunuvabitch thinks I broke Watari’s computer! I’m trying to tell ‘em I wasn’t even nearby but they won’t listen.”

L glanced at Roger’s disconcerted face, then Watari’s, which looked as passive and grandfatherly as ever; he doubted it was the destruction of personal property that would upset Watari so much as the presence of criminal activity in his home.

He twisted around in the doorframe and spoke to someone behind him. “Are you coming in?” There was a pause, and Near walked in, hands in his pockets in a very L-like posture. He stood off to the side, a curiously dark expression on his face.

L turned back toward Roger, seemingly satisfied. “Why do you think Mello did this?”

“Well, look for yourself,” Roger led L to Watari’s desk, where an open laptop sat. Some kind of liquid had been poured over it and it had clearly short-circuited.

“Quillish and I were in the library when he said he needed to retrieve some files from his desk. I went with him and we found it like this. He was the one who pointed this out…” he gestured to what L was already bent over and closely examining; a faint but distinct handprint, in chocolate, beside the computer, too smudged to salvage fingerprints from, but clearly identifiable as belonging to an adolescent boy. “I’m sure you can see why we reached the conclusion we did.”

“How long ago did you discover this?”

Roger pondered for a moment. “Fifteen minutes…? Yes, fifteen.”

L nodded, then rolled his eyes up to contemplate Mello’s visibly clean hands. “Fifteen minutes… more than enough time to hide the evidence, don’t you think?”

Mello glared. “Yeah, I guess. I could have washed my hands during that time, but as I’ve already said, it wasn’t me.”

Looking back down at the dark handprint, L surprised his small audience by sniffing it tentatively. Frowning at what he discovered, he leaned in closer and inhaled a deep whiff. A slow smile spread across his face, and he straightened up. “Mello’s telling the truth.”

Roger looked at him dubiously. “Don’t get me wrong, L, I’d love for that to be the case, but how can you be sure?”

“The smell,” L replied simply, pointing at the print, “There is a heavy scent of almonds in this chocolate, which Mello is dangerously allergic to; why do you think he’s so picky about the kinds of chocolate he buys. If this were his handprint, he’d have gone into anaphylactic shock by now. There is no way this could have been him.”

There was a stunned silence for about half a moment, before Mello’s triumphant laughter bubbled over, giddy, raucous giggles filling the space of the room. “Ha! I told you, you bastards, but you just think I’m responsible for every bad thing around here. L, I could kiss you!”

L cocked his head to the side, and Mello quit laughing with a hasty cough. “But I won’t, of course,” he finished lamely.

“Yes, well,” Roger interjected, “that’s all well and good, but it leaves us with no suspect at all. Have you any ideas, L?”

L wandered out from behind Watari’s desk, chewing his thumb thoughtfully. He meandered about the room, and the only sounds were wet teeth and tongue on skin. “It’s obvious the intention was to frame Mello, so I doubt very much the culprit bears any ill-will towards Watari personally…” he paused,” looking at the ceiling. “I wonder what you did to this person, Mello.”

There was no chance for a response, however, as L moved, faster than any thought the languid boy was capable of, to Near’s side. Near, who had been silent and sullen all this time, seemed to rear back at L’s sudden incursion. L caught Near’s wrist, jamming his thumb painfully between the radius and the ulna, and yanked the hand out of its protective pocket. He held up the splayed limb for all to see, while Near jerked ineffectually in his grip.

Across his hand, which had the exact dimension of the print, was smeared chocolate, smelling strongly of almonds.

Roger gaped. “Near?! Wh-why?”

Near’s response was silence.

“Would I be incorrect in deducing, Near, that this is a response to the numerous, childish pranks Mello frequently plays on you, not the least of which being the rat he put in your bed two nights ago?”

Again Near was silent.

“I saw him in the hallway and thought his lingering was strange, which is why I pressed him to come in.” L shrugged. “There you have it.”

He released Near’s hand, and bent his head to speak so only Near could hear him. “Fifteen minutes should have been long enough to wash your hands and get away scot-free... but you couldn’t resist hanging around to find out Mello’s punishment.”

Near’s glare could have cut diamonds, but L paid it no mind.

“You make a very poor criminal, Near. I suggest you stay on the path of justice.”

L could tell by the way Mello watched Roger lead Near away that there would be more than one punishment meted out for his crimes. He looked to Watari, who smiled, approving

“Nicely done, L,” he said genially.

L nodded.

“Would you like to have some cake and discuss further any ambitions you might have in the field of investigation?”

The possibility of sweets punctuated in L’s mind and he smiled. He seated himself in a seat by Watari’s desk, toes wiggling over the edge.

“Is it strawberry?”