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Conan stifled an aggravated growl as he opened the door. Kaito was going to go to bed if Conan had to knock him down and sit on him.

Except that might not be necessary after all. Conan carefully, quietly, let the door close behind him, staring at Kaito slumped over in a wingback chair before the tv. He'd curled up improbably small, knees near his chest, feet tucked between the seat cushion and arm. His head looked as if it was about to fall under the chair's wing and possibly roll away. One arm lay hooked up over the back of the seat; the other was flung across his chest, remote held as delicately as any jewel in its setting.

He was fast asleep. Or, more likely, had passed out some unknowable number of hours before. The tea tray with yesterday's dinner was untouched, sitting on the floor next to him, so Kaito had been asleep at least thirteen hours ago. However, Conan had seen the butler carrying yesterday's lunch back, and it had been down to scraps, so... If Kaito fallen asleep shortly after that, then, assuming no naps, he'd spent almost sixty hours awake and no less than nineteen asleep.

That meant that if Conan tried to make Kaito more comfortable he'd probably wake up. And then he'd refuse to go back to sleep, and return to watching his life continue to be torn and picked apart. The same would happen if Conan tried to take the remote. However, he could probably turn off the tv without disturbing Kaito.

Conan reached for the power button, then paused. He could turn off the tv, yes, but... the channel was about to go into the morning news show, and hadn't he just been thinking he'd go downstairs and watch it? He could stay here instead, where it was less (lonely) full of sneaking Koizumis and creeping butlers making him understand why Kaito had been apprehensive about coming here.

Inconceivable, Chapter 8