Sherlock awoke in his own bed with a start. Staring around his furnished apartment in awe, he quickly ran over the events of the night before in his head. " So how in the hell did I get here?" When a sudden crash from the other room made him literally fly from his bed. His bare feet hit the stone floor with cat like grace and padding softly to the door, opened it. The well-oiled hinges behaved and the door opened without a squeal and Sherlock saw from the small space he created, a man in black clothing, very much like his own, sitting at his organ. His long fingers were placed upon the keys, but Sherlock's instrument refused to play for him. Sherlock smiled to himself; he had replaced all the ivories with ones that had genetic markers which made it so no one but him, could play in his kingdom. Sherlock leaned closer for a better look; the door opening a tiniest of fraction more, to hit a small bell that was tied to the door frame. A soft ring emanated through the cavern and the man sat up straight and with the flutter of his black cloak moved into the shadows to disappear. The sudden vanishing act the man did made Sherlock blink in surprise; he, the prince of illusions, just saw a magic trick he himself couldn't figure out. Reaching up, he tore the bell from its fastening and walked out of the room. Quickly Sherlock made an inventory of his home; nothing was missing, but something had been left behind. It was a piece of sheet music that bore his handwriting, yet Sherlock didn't remember writing it.

" My God, I am being haunted. " He said out loud, his voice resonating throughout, when a sharp burst of laughter, which made him cringe, replied. " I will always be there Sherlock. Always."

" I am not going to let you win. This is my kingdom and no matter what you do, I shall remain!" Sherlock cried, anger flooding his voice and sitting down at his organ, began to play.

He didn't know what he played, or even how long he played, but Sherlock played and played with fervor until his fingers started to bleed. Yet he kept playing until the pain became truly unbearable and the keys were now tinted red with blood.

" What is wrong with me?" And somewhere deep inside Sherlock wanted some else but Echo to answer him in return. Slumping forward, he placed his head in his hands, leaving bloody streaks on his face and let the tears fall. They didn't burn like they normally did; they were cool and refreshing, just like Christine's voice that was floating through his home… floating through his home. Sherlock sat up; his keen ears picking up her sweet voice, now untempered by his touch, move like a angel " Or a ghost" He thought to himself, through the Opera House's air ducts. At first he couldn't place the song she was singing, but after a moment of contemplation, he gasped in shock. It was the song he sang to her when she falling asleep, before she knew who he was.

" So you do remember me my angel." He felt relieved and wiping the blood from his face and fingers, quickly made his way up to her.

Even when it was untaught, it still sounded beautiful to him. Her voice was as pure as the moonlight on the snowy mountains. " Christine?" Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks. That wasn't a female voice, that was a male's voice and it was a voice he had never thought he would hear again.

" My Lord President." He could hear Christine's shock, but he also heard anger in it. " Please stand." Sherlock moved softly to Box Five, his bare feet making no sound of the scarlet carpet. Shutting the curtains, he stood by the pillar of Prometheus and watched as Rassilon drew Christine up by her hands. " My dear, you have a lovely voice. Who taught you how to sing?" But instead of answering him, Christine merely shrugged, much to Sherlock's relief. " Well I think that instead of Carlotta singing tonight, why don't you?" Sherlock could see Christine's face drain of blood from were he was standing and with a curt nod told the Lord President all he needed to know.

" So I presume you know all of the songs then?" Another nod." Then be ready for your debut, for tonight I shall be here and I don't want to be disappointed." He touched her chin lightly and Christine gazed in his eyes with trepidation. But the moment was over as soon as it began and curtseying to bid him a good morning, Christine ran off stage as soon as Rassilon's back was turned. Sherlock soon followed; his feet pounded the stone like a drum to the chapel where he knew Christine would be hiding.

" What do I do now? The Lord President asking me to sing for him when I can't sing at all? Oh what am I gong to do?" The tears flowed freely from her chocolate eyes making Sherlock ache with the urge to comfort her.

" My child, why are you crying?" Sherlock murmured, his voice smoothly wrapping Christine in it. Christine flinched, startled by him and asked who he was. " I have no name, but I am here to help you."

" So you are my guardian angel then?" Sherlock wanted to laugh. Christine was smarter than this, but from the look on her face, she didn't know what was going on. " You could call me that if you wish, I am only here to help you." She smiled and Sherlock felt a pressure release from around his heart that he didn't know he had.

" Alright Erik…" Sherlock's heart stopped. She remembered his nickname; the one she gave him the first time around. " Can you help me with tonight? I am supposed to sing for the Lord President, but I can't sing. Personally I think I sound like toad." This time Sherlock did laugh and Christine catching on laughed too. " Well my little toad; let's see if by tonight I can turn you into a nightingale shall we?

R&R my friends, i am much obliged.