***A black rose. No, not the black rose. It pricked my finger I felt the blood dripping down my hand...***

I sat bolt upright, clutching and my bedclothes and trying not to wake my parents. The tears ran down my face and I shivered violently. I looked at the clock - 4:30 am. I glanced over at my walkie talkie, and flicked it on.

"Holmes?" I said, very softly.

A few seconds later he answered, sleepily. "Watson? What's wrong?"

"I - I - can't sleep, I just..." I broke down into tears.

"Do you want me to come over?" he asked, kindly.

I couldn't answer, so I nodded. Which was really stupid because he couldn't see me, yet some how he knew.

"I'll be right over," he said, and the walkie went dead.

I crawled out of bed, found some clothing, and then padded downstairs. When I opened the door he was all ready there, waiting.

He pulled me into a tight hug and I calmed, suddenly.

"Shh," he whispered. "You're okay. I promise you're okay. I won't let anything happen, understand?"

I nodded.

"Watson," Holmes said over the top of my head. "I think it's time we did some investigating."


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


At the next rehearsal, I said hello to Vicky, unpacked my flute, and glanced at the ceiling. That darn chandelier! It looked... closer, somehow.

A hand waved in front of my face and I snapped back to reality.

"Sara, what's wrong?" Vicky asked.

"Nothing, nothing," I said. "I'm just tired, you know?"

Vicky nodded, but looked uncertain. She kept sneaking glances at me while she unpacked.

I sighed and turned to our music stand. I grasped the edges to raise it a bit... and POP! the whole top came off. I stared at the two pieces in dismay, then tried to hastily jam them back together. It wouldn't work.

"Urgh!" I said, and tried the rapid fire assault method - BANG! BANG! BANGBANGBANG!

Vicky laughed and took the top from my hands and slid it gently back into place. Then she pulled on the bottom of the stand and raised it slowly.

"Thanks," I said, embarrassed, and went back to scanning the auditorium.

Mr. Hailey banged on his stand for attention. "Your ears, please, everyone. I've just received resignation from our two top flutes, so I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate Naomi, our new principal flute. And now, please take out our first piece." With that, rehearsal began. But it hard to concentrate when all I could think about were black roses...

"No, no, no," Mr. Hailey said, "Let's take it from measure 38."

I groaned and glanced at the balcony. Ms. Basil, as usual, was sitting there watching, but there was something strange about her, too...

I'm not a very religious person, but when rehearsal ended I said a silent prayer and turned to Naomi, the next in line.

She opened her flute case, paled, and with a trembling hand held up the third black rose.

Three people gulped. Rachel, fourth chair, Vicky, fifth chair, and me, sixth chair. Our eyes met and we all took a deep breath. Naomi, shaking, packed her things up quickly and left.

Holmes and I stayed behind as the theater slowly emptied. When everyone was gone he turned to me.

"Now, I've been thinking about this," he said, "And I decided that... Watson? Watson, are you feeling well?"

"Of course, Holmes," I snapped, "Time of my life."

"Shush!" he said, and put the back of his hand to my forehead. "You're feverish."

"Knock it off," I said, pushing his hand away. "Let's do this. You were thinking..." I prompted him.

"Well," Holmes said, "You said that you were watching the back, and there weren't any people there except Mr. J, who stayed in one spot. And anyone coming from the front or the sides would have to go through the orchestra students. So, assuming these attacks are not from someone in the orchestra, that leaves..."

I brightened. "From above!"

"Right. Get your walkie talkie."

I dug it out of my backpack and switched it on.

"Good," Holmes murmured, looking skyward and turning in a circle. "There's a staircase over there. I'm betting it leads to an attic above the stage. I want you to go up there and then follow my instructions."

"Sure thing," I said, and made way for the stairs. They were old and rickety, and the wood moaned beneath my feet. After two creepy flights, I found myself facing an old wooden door. I pushed it open and glanced around.

The attic was dark and very spooky. Furniture, draped with cloth and the dust of years loomed around me. Odd boxes, funny shapes, old stage props leered in my face and I shivered.

"Okay, Holmes," I said into my walkie talkie. "I'm here, by the door to the attic. About halfway along the wall."

"Good." he said. "Take... fifteen steps."

"One, two, three, four," I muttered, pacing along. "Fourteen, fifteen. Okay, I'm good."

"Watson, you should be directly above the first flute chair. Jump."

"What?"

"Jump, so I can tell where you are by the sound."

"Whatever," I said, and began to jump up and down. Thump. Thump. Thump. THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!!...

With a sickening crash, the floor gave way beneath me. I screamed and scrambled through the empty air, trying to find something to hold on too...

My fingers touched wood, and I grabbed tight. I slipped, then held. I swung gently back and forth, my eyes closed as tight as I could and taking shaking breaths. Slowly, fearfully, I opened my eyes.

Holmes, his face right at the level of my shoes, looked strange... like he was trying not to laugh!

"Oh, put a sock in it," I said, trying to climb back through the hole.

"Watson," Holmes said, laughing. "I do believe you've found a trap door."

"Do tell!" I said, treading air.

"I just hope you're not ticklish," Holmes teased, reach out a foot to my ankle. I frowned and kicked out at him, which only caused me to swing wildly.

Taking a deep breath and timing it just right, I pulled myself up through the hole and flopped into the attic above. I crawled back around, put my head back down the hole and stuck my tongue out to Holmes. He laughed and shooed me back up. I closed the trap door behind me, and latched it into place.

"Okay, now what?" I said into my walkie, which I had (thankfully) dropped next to the trap door.

"Walk along the line of the flute chairs. Look at the floorboards for more trap doors."

I did as he told me, pacing along the wooden attic. I came upon a wooden box draped with cloth and I shoved it aside.

"Watson! Watson!" Holmes' voice was excited. "What did you just do?"

"I.. um... I guess I just pushed this box to the side... why?"

"Do it again! Push it again!"

He's lost his nut, I thought, but I gave the box another shove.

"Haha!" Holmes was ecstatic. "Whenever you push that box, the chandelier moves. Push it to your right."

I did.

"That's it, that's it! It moved to the right!" Holmes yelled.

I whipped the cover off of the box. It was a plain wooden crate but when I lifted the crate, I gasped. It was a round, short column of a black metal, and I reached out a hand to stroke it.

The silver bracelet around my wrist was drawn to the black metal, and stuck there with a tiny clink!

I tried to pull my wrist away, but the bracelet held firm. It's a magnet! I realized. I set the walkie down and grasped my wrist. With a gigantic heave, I managed to free myself from the magnet. Holmes heard me topple over from below.

"Watson?"

"It's a magnet, Holmes!" I said, "A magnet!"

"Yes! Now we're getting somewhere! I'm coming up now!"

I rolled my eyes. Holmes was so weird. One second he wants to be below, then above. Oh well.

Holmes burst through the door, grinning. "We're really getting somewhere," he repeated, and began to examine the attic.

I strolled around nonchalantly. On the far wall from the magnet was a stack of crates with a cloth cover that didn't look quite so dusty...

Feeling clever, I whipped it off and found myself staring at a small, red button.

Don't people ever learn anything? What's the number one rule in ANY move, TV show, etc.? Don't push the red button.

But what did Pandora do? She opened the box.

What did Eve do? She ate the apple.

What did I do? I pushed the button.


On a matching set of crates on the opposite me, something raised up from beneath the sheet. A metallic click! filled the air.

"Watson get down!" Holmes yelled, lunging for me. He slammed me to the ground, and not a moment too soon. With a sinister *whiz* something shot above our heads.

We lay there, face down on the floor, for about a minute.

Finally, I ventured to speak. "Holmes," I said, my words slurred as my cheek was pressed to the ground. "I fink you can get off me dow." He did, and we both stood in amazement. Where was the bullet? Or for that matter, the dart?

"Watson, let's get out of here," Holmes said, and I agreed. We hurried down the stairs as fast as we could. But not so fast that Holmes didn't notice the clue that saved my life...

Stuck in a broken bit of the wall was some tan colored wax and a few strands of dark brown hair. Holmes pulled it from the splintered wood. "Isn't this odd?" he said, and showed it to me.

"Yes, yes, very odd now can we GO?"

Holmes nodded and pocketed the wax and hair.

We clambered down the last of the stairs only to come face to face with our good friend Mr. Johnson. I paled but tried to look normal. Huh. Yeah right.

"I would think..." Mr. Johnson said slowly, softly. "That if you two knew what was good for you, you would keep your noses out of other people's business." He turned to Holmes. "Mr. Holmes, you do care for your companion here, don't you? You wouldn't want anything to happen to her, would you?"

I felt Holmes tense beside me. Mr. Johnson chuckled. "I thought so. Stay away, Mr. Holmes, do you hear me? Stay very far away."