CHAPTER SEVEN: THE HATRED OF RAOUL
A/N: I know I know. It's the title chapter, therefore it should be special. It's early, I have a hangover, and I have writer's block. If it isn't special enough . . . well . . . screw you it's my story! Joke joke.
It had been shocking enough when Christine had found Madame Giry's body hanging from the coat stand, but imagine the shock she got when she found the two managers, decapitated in a drawer together. At first she got some very suggestive thoughts, but then she saw a note. It read, 'I did warn you silly people.' Christine was surprised by this. It wasn't Erik's style. Maybe he had been telling the truth . . .
"Elementary my dear Watson. Elementary indeed!" "Er . . . excuse me Mr. Holmes, I fear that you have once again mistaken me for your Watson friend. My name is Bétecular, im the Opera House's auctioneer." Sherlock Holmes stopped. He brushed away the white from his moustache, and continued drinking his milk. "Indeed. I have found out the culprit of these hideous murders, and he sits in the next room." Bétecular looked eagerly. "Is it the ghost monsieur? Is it?!" Holmes smiled. "Monsieur, take a look for yourself." He opened the door. Inside, oh the eternal horror . . . in the corner stood . . . a milk bottle. "A milk bottle?" Holmes nodded. "Your telling me that a milk bottle, killed five people?" Holmes stopped for a minute. "As a matter of fact, you have made two vital mistakes in your calculations my dear Bétecular, first of all, I am not really a detective, and second, I have killed six." Raoul pulled off the mask and plunged his knife in to Bétecular's throat. "F-fop?" Raoul grinned as he dragged the knife slowly across the throat. "If you'll excuse me, I have some more deaths to plan." Raoul left the Opera House through the back door.
"Erik? ERIK?" Christine called for the Phantom from behind the mirror. "Erik?" She was in her dressing room, well half in it. She jumped in shock as someone tapped her on the shoulders. Erik stood behind her. "Christine, come with me now, we are all in great danger." He grabbed her by the wrist, and sucked her down in to his abyss.
"Raoul? Erik please! Why would Raoul murder those people?" She took a sip of the tea Erik had made. "Because my dear, everybody hates him! Its so obvious, why cant you see it?" Christine sighed. "Because I am a complete airhead!" The room fell silent. "Er . . . no no no . . . Christine you are very clever indeed!" Christine sniffed. "Anyway I can prove Raoul is the murderer. I saw him with my own eyes." Christine looked at him. "You mean-" Erik nodded solemnly. "Yes. I saw him kill again." They hurried off to where Bétecular was murdered.
The body lay still, a small puddle of blood around it's throat. "My god. How could Raoul of done this?" Erik narrowed his eyes. "Easy Christine. He is a clood blooded murderer."
A/N: I know I know. It's the title chapter, therefore it should be special. It's early, I have a hangover, and I have writer's block. If it isn't special enough . . . well . . . screw you it's my story! Joke joke.
It had been shocking enough when Christine had found Madame Giry's body hanging from the coat stand, but imagine the shock she got when she found the two managers, decapitated in a drawer together. At first she got some very suggestive thoughts, but then she saw a note. It read, 'I did warn you silly people.' Christine was surprised by this. It wasn't Erik's style. Maybe he had been telling the truth . . .
"Elementary my dear Watson. Elementary indeed!" "Er . . . excuse me Mr. Holmes, I fear that you have once again mistaken me for your Watson friend. My name is Bétecular, im the Opera House's auctioneer." Sherlock Holmes stopped. He brushed away the white from his moustache, and continued drinking his milk. "Indeed. I have found out the culprit of these hideous murders, and he sits in the next room." Bétecular looked eagerly. "Is it the ghost monsieur? Is it?!" Holmes smiled. "Monsieur, take a look for yourself." He opened the door. Inside, oh the eternal horror . . . in the corner stood . . . a milk bottle. "A milk bottle?" Holmes nodded. "Your telling me that a milk bottle, killed five people?" Holmes stopped for a minute. "As a matter of fact, you have made two vital mistakes in your calculations my dear Bétecular, first of all, I am not really a detective, and second, I have killed six." Raoul pulled off the mask and plunged his knife in to Bétecular's throat. "F-fop?" Raoul grinned as he dragged the knife slowly across the throat. "If you'll excuse me, I have some more deaths to plan." Raoul left the Opera House through the back door.
"Erik? ERIK?" Christine called for the Phantom from behind the mirror. "Erik?" She was in her dressing room, well half in it. She jumped in shock as someone tapped her on the shoulders. Erik stood behind her. "Christine, come with me now, we are all in great danger." He grabbed her by the wrist, and sucked her down in to his abyss.
"Raoul? Erik please! Why would Raoul murder those people?" She took a sip of the tea Erik had made. "Because my dear, everybody hates him! Its so obvious, why cant you see it?" Christine sighed. "Because I am a complete airhead!" The room fell silent. "Er . . . no no no . . . Christine you are very clever indeed!" Christine sniffed. "Anyway I can prove Raoul is the murderer. I saw him with my own eyes." Christine looked at him. "You mean-" Erik nodded solemnly. "Yes. I saw him kill again." They hurried off to where Bétecular was murdered.
The body lay still, a small puddle of blood around it's throat. "My god. How could Raoul of done this?" Erik narrowed his eyes. "Easy Christine. He is a clood blooded murderer."