I'm starting to write this the same day as I posted "Near Miss", so I can't complain about reviews... yet. But I will, I have a feeling. But I'm going to start working, and incorporate complaints and stuff later. What can I say, I'm a manic-writer. Kinda like manic-depressive, except without the depression.

And a new feature, everyone! Personal comments to all reviewers!

rhodesia: I thank you, first for being my first reviewer of the last chapter, and second for your nice compliments. I'm easily pleased. For your comments, you receive @--%---- It's a Moonrose, my own specialty!

Anastacia: I'm glad you like the dialogues- I sometimes feel that they're not very realistic. Thanks for reviewing, and correcting my Russian- shows you how much I know.

Alex Moolight: You think that my story is sooooooooooo goood, huh? Thanks!

Kenta Divina: If you do post your SH story, I'll read and review it! I think that SH stories are the hardest to write- the require a lot of insight and intelligence. I hope nobody killed you on the way to Orchestra!

Cecilia Carlton: My mind is trapped in Victoria England also... don't feel bad. You want a cookie... sure, I would give you one. But it's a computer, so just pretend to taste the yummyful chocolate chips in your mouth.

Pinkpanther: Hmm, to kill Kline off, or to not kill Kline off, that is the question... she does test my nerves at time, she would do well in the afterlife... you'll just have to wait and see! Also, after I finish the sequel to this story, I will gladly write up the mini-adventures that Holmes and Watson embarked upon.

Chapter Idon'tknowwhat: Opening Night

It had been an entire week since Kline had disappeared.

A week of terror, anger, and extreme depression.

A week that I can only hope my friends and I never have to repeat.

The Nutcracker was cancelled, of course. With the death of Jackie LeSalle, no one could direct them in their dance moves. The dancers had come very close to revolting against Victor Joecano and Jon Goodmena, but Sallay managed to stop them with a few well-chosen words. It was with heavy hearts that the dancers slunk away.

Not all of them left, of course. Anastasia Amalkova (AN- thanks to for the correction!) remained, as did Melanie Williams, Emily Vouche, Judith Beaman, and Amy Lennox. Not to mention a few other dancers, ones that I didn't remember the names to. Holmes was near giddy when he discovered who stayed. Melanie and Anastasia were our main suspects. Anastasia had hated everyone who ended up being killed, and Melanie was just nasty.

When I woke up that day (in my own room, for once), I heard the excited buzz of a few actors, and many instrumentalists. I couldn't understand why they were interrupting my sleep, until I glanced at the calendar that I had hung on my door. Circled in red was the February 1st. Opening night. My stomach clenched up with fear and excitement, and I quickly got out of bed.

Changing as fast as I could, I burst out of my hotel room and dashed down to Holmes' room, to see if he was as excited as I. I knew I shouldn't feel nearly so excited, what with Kline missing and all, but I couldn't help it. I knew we would get Kline back. After all, we were the good guys. The good guys always triumphed, right?

I stopped in front of Holmes' new room, hitting the door solidly with my fist. At first, there was no answer, and I wondered if Holmes was still asleep. But then a very female voice commanded me to come in. Normally, I would have gotten very angry that another girl was in Holmes' room. But I recognized the melancholy tones that Christine's voice had taken on in the last few days. I opened the door and stepped in, carefully shutting it behind me.

Holmes' new room had a lovely bar, which was the hotel manager's way of compensating for the damage. Christine was sitting on top of the bar, one leg bent beneath her while the other was balancing a cup of tea on it.

"Hey," she said quietly, smiling at me. I waved and sat down in one of the stools, glancing around.

"Hey. Where's Holmes?" I asked. Christine handed me a note, and I felt a brief adrenaline rush. Notes had been nothing but threats for the past few days, and I was scared to open it. Christine must have sensed my hesitation and fear, because she laughed, nearly upsetting her tea.

"It's from Holmes, don't worry."

I grinned at her and opened the note, reading it swiftly.

Watson- Am interviewing the remaining dancers. Wait in my hotel room.

I glanced up at Christine, who was sipping the green tea with surprising gentleness.

"Did you get one too?" I asked. Christine nodded, and then put her tea aside.

"Yeah. Mine was shorter, though. It just told me to wait in his hotel room. Guess he puts more effort in for his girlfriend," she teased, winking. I rolled my eyes.

"Todd would do the same for you."

Christine glared at me, sniffing in mock anger.

"Todd is not my boyfriend."

"Yeah, that's not what I've heard. I finally figured out what you blushed about when I told you about the meeting in Holmes' room about a week ago (AN- Dance Moves Missing). You interviewed the actors and then went out with Todd. Dancing, from what I hear. And what about at the Costume Ball? He asked you to dance, and you accepted. You love him, don't you?" I asked, pressing her for answers. Christine stood up on the bar, straightening her black leggings and then jumping off.

"Well?" I persisted. Christine looked at my, one eyebrow raised.

"Love is purely a chemical thing," she retorted.

"A chemical thing..." I echoed in disbelief. "Fine then. You think he's hot."

Christine looked at me, her expression telling me she clearly did not. But I wasn't going to give up.

"Ok, you don't think he's hot. I don't blame you. He is kind of cute, though... but that's not the point. You have a crush on him. You think he's sweet. Admit it!" I challenged. Christine merely yawned, falling back on Holmes' bed.

"He's sweet. I didn't say anything about loving him, though, or having a crush on him," she reminded me. I rolled my eyes and hopped onto the bed, bouncing up and down.

"Sometimes saying nothing says more than all the words in the world," I retaliated. Christine glared at me again.

"J-J-Jenny! S-S-Stop that infernal b-b-b-b-bouncing!" she shrieked. I giggled and just bounced harder. Christine's hand shot out and she grabbed my ankle, causing me to trip and fall on top of her. Of course, Holmes had to chose just that moment to enter.

"Is my girlfriend hitting on her friend? Can I believe my eyes?" Holmes asked, a familiar smirk working it's way onto his mouth. I scrambled off of Christine as she shoved me away, and I smiled sweetly at Holmes.

"It's not what it seems. Well, it would have been, but you interrupted us, so..." I joked. Christine smacked me over the head and looked at Holmes expectantly.

"Well? Any new information?" she asked urgently. Holmes' smile fell away, and he shook his head.

"None. I'm sorry, Christine, but... the dancers didn't offer anything productive. I didn't even get a clue from them," he reported bitterly. I saw Christine's eyes darken with dismay, and I put a hand on her shoulder.

"We'll get her back, Christine, I promise," I muttered soothingly in her ear. Christine shook me away, looking frustrated.

"Well. That's... disappointing. After this show is over, though, I'm beating the information out of those dancers if I have to. We need Kline here. I mean, come on. Our plane will be going home in another month or so. We need her here," Christine repeated, her voice slipping into unintelligible murmurings. Holmes smiled at her, and then looked at me.

"Are you ready for opening night?" he asked me. I snorted, playing with my hair quietly.

"No. Claudia is, certainly, but I'm getting really nervous. I mean, we've only had about a month to get ready," I reminded him. Holmes shrugged.

"We'll do fine. It's the actors I would be more worried about. They have the tough part," he retorted. Christine shook herself out of her mumblings and nodded violently.

"Of course we do. I would kill to see either of you act... Jenny, I know you can't. Holmes- you'd better be able to act in your line of work," she snapped. Holmes raised an eyebrow mockingly.

"Does thine resident actress get snippy when preparing for opening night?" he asked. Christine chuckled, tapping Holmes on the temple.

"I think that with your brains you can figure that out."

Holmes took her hand away from his head and kissed it. Christine blushed and yanked her hand out of his, backing up.

"Now then, Sherlock, save the romantics for someone who would appreciate it. Like Jenny here. Can't let her know of our secret love affair," grinned Christine. I gasped.

"Holmes! Do you love this woman?" I asked. Holmes smiled enigmatically.

"If I do not, then you must throw stones at me. For such a lady is a divine rose, newly blooming, with the beauty of the moon rising above the mountains, and the elegance of the most perfect of swans. I cannot deny my love for such a woman!" he cried theatrically. I began to sob, mockingly.

"Say it isn't so!" I pleaded. Christine stepped forward and put one of her thin hands on Holmes' lips.

"Speak no more, thine lover! For our love must forever be secret, especially to thine wife!" she cried out. Holmes looked at her, his eyes sparkling wildly.

"Say no more, my own! For I shall steal your breath with a single kiss!" he cried. Then, dipping Christine quite low, he kissed her.

I shrieked in horror, and saw Christine flailing in his arms, trying to hit him away. Holmes then released her and started laughing. I put my hands over my mouth in pure enjoyment as Christine snarled at Holmes, and then kicked him in the shin.

"Jerk!" she shouted. Holmes was practically roaring in laughter now. And then, Christine was up off the floor, bowing with Holmes. She tossed her brown hair triumphantly, looking at me.

"Was it believable?" she demanded, her blue eyes pleading with me. I blinked a few times.

"Wait- you mean he didn't kiss you?"

"Of course not. I would of killed him if he did."

"Oh."

"Looks like it worked, Sherlock."

"It would appear so."

"It is true then. You are a wonderful actor."

"Ah no, fair Christine. Twas your acting talent that brought the charade to life."

"You speak to kindly, valiant Sherlock. It was you who made it all the more real."

"Shall we agree, then, that it was both of us who made the play real?"

"Certainly, my friend."

Christine grinned at me, and then her smile disappeared as she looked at the empty spot to my right. Where Kline would have stood. Her face became pale, and then she forced a smile on her face.

"If you'll excuse me, I have... work... to do. I shall see you both when the curtain rises."

Christine waved at us as she exited, practically slamming the door behind her. I watched her go, with a bit of sadness, and then looked at Holmes.

"Nothing, then?" I asked, practically pleading for results. Holmes sighed and shook his head.

"Nothing. You would think the killer would let something slip. Mention something that only the killer would know, or wear a sign that says "I'm a bloody maniac, slap the handcuffs on me and take me away". But no! Nothing, nothing!" he snarled, starting to pace. I put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, ready to cry. Kline's life depended on us finding the killer. If the killer didn't give us any clues to work with, then what could we do?

Holmes noticed my distressed look and wrapped his arms around me, kissing my forehead. I held back a few tears that threatened to slip out.

"Holmes... what if we don't find her in time?" I asked. He knew who I was talking about.

"She can take care of herself. Knowing Kline, she's probably killed the killer for putting her in a room that didn't have a view," he whispered gently. I sniffed.

"You think? Honestly, now," I said. Holmes tensed underneath my arms, and I felt him sigh.

"No. No, I fully suspect that she's been hidden away. Far away. I don't think she's dead yet, though. Our killer likes to brag about her work. If she had killed Kline, we would have found her by now. I would suspect that she's saving Kline, somewhat like a final masterpiece," he replied. I felt my stomach lurch.

"I'm scared," I mumbled. Holmes kissed me again, rubbing small circles in my back.

"You should be."

******************************************************************************************

I looked spiffy. I looked very spiffy, if a bit daring.

It was a good seven hours before the play actually opened, but like all actors, they wanted to have a nice gala before hand. The press had been invited, along with a bunch of famous people I had never heard of. The joys of being a naive American.

My dress was a deep blue, almost black in color, but much nicer. It was low cut in the front, and had a nice high slit up one leg. It was had spaghetti straps. I looked very spiffy.

As for jewelry, I wasn't quite sure what to wear yet. I had various trinkets that Holmes had given me, but I really just wanted something simple. Finally, I chose his first necklace, the one that I figured had to have a curse on it. It was made of diamonds and sapphires, and had been his mothers. Of course, his mother had turned out to be a criminal overlord, but... that's a different story. But I had worn the necklace the first night I had ever been put in danger, and I felt a bit wary to wear it. But when I put it on, I relaxed. It was beautiful.

"Very nice. Gift from Sherlock, I presume?" commented Christine's voice from my doorway. I heard the mocking tone in her voice and turned to face her, so I could write her off. But I couldn't. My voice just disappeared, as though it had been sucked out of my throat.

For someone who didn't care about appearances, Christine looked absolutely fabulous. Her brown hair had been piled up on top of her head in a messy yet elegant bun, with several curled tendrils hanging down in a neat pattern. She wore perfect makeup, darker red for her lips and lovely mascara. Her dress was certainly gorgeous. It was a long black gown that reached the ground. The only sleeves were spaghetti strap, like mine, except she had two extra. It had a turtleneck, but that didn't deplete from the sheer beauty of the dress. Christine wore black gloves that reached the middle of her upper arm, and a gorgeous emerald necklace dangled from a chain around her neck. Her dark blue eyes glowed as she saw my reaction, and she clapped her gloved hands together.

"You like, then?" she questioned eagerly. I nodded dumbly, stunned. Christine smiled triumphantly, twirling around to show me the full extent of her dress. To my absolute incredulity, I saw that there was practically no back, and that the fabric only met again a few inches above her butt. Christine giggled like a schoolgirl at my reaction.

"A lovely gown you are wearing, Christine. Does Todd like it?" Holmes' sardonic voice asked from the doorway. Christine spun around and grinned at Holmes, kissing him on the cheek.

"I don't know. Thank you for picking it out for me," she replied. I snapped out of my surprise and glared at Holmes.

"You picked that dress out? What, do you want all the cast to end up being killed?" I snapped, not really angry. Holmes looked at me in confusion, as did Christine.

"What do you mean?" he asked me. I felt a smile creep over my face as I began laughing.

"You know if any guy flirts with Christine she'll snap his neck."

Christine reached over and slapped me hard over the head. I swatted her away from me, glaring.

"Watch the hair!" I shrieked. Christine smirked and made a move to mess up my hair. I jumped back and raised my hands.

"If you don't watch it, I'll attack your hair."

"Ok! Jeez, truce. You fight dirty, Jenny. I admire that."

"You are so weird."

"Thank you."

"Ladies," Holmes said, clearing this throat. Christine and I looked up, grinning at him. He looked very dashing in his tux, which I'm sure Christine made him wear. Certainly, I had begged, but Holmes had always been able to resist me. Two begging women, though, I didn't think he could fully resist. I winked at Holmes and took his arm, leaning on it gently. Holmes kissed my head, and I promptly hit him.

"What?" he demanded. Raising an eyebrow, I gestured to the very intricate bundle of braids that I had managed to weave into a gorgeous bun, that vaguely resembled Princess Leia's, except one, and on the top of my head.

"Watch the hair."

*************************************************************************************************

"Holmes... this is so boring," I groaned, trying not to sound conceited as I sipped my sparkling grape juice. Holmes smiled at me, putting an arm around my waist.

"You need not tell me, Watson. This gala is mainly for the actors, anyway," he reminded me. I sighed darkly and began playing with a few strands of hair that had enough guts to work their way out of the entire bottle of hairspray I had used. They felt crunchy in my fingers, much to my disgust.

"Well, Christine doesn't seem to be having fun," I retaliated, pointing out our friend. She was glaring sullenly at anybody who approached her, and though she had accepted a dance with Todd, she had then asked him to leave her alone. I took it as a sign of true love. She hit me for it.

Holmes smirked at me, tugging on my hair gently.

"Now then, Christine isn't a normal actress, is she?"

I shrugged and crossed my legs, careful to not let anything inappropriate show. I glanced around the large ballroom, hoping for something to do. Unfortunately, everyone and everything seemed preoccupied. I sighed again, and heard Holmes laugh.

"Come now, Watson, it can't be that boring," he said. I rolled my eyes and stood up, offering him a hand.

"Fine, let's dance then."

Holmes accepted my hand gallantly, even though I knew that he really hated dancing. He led me in a very pleasant, relaxing waltz, humming the melody in my ear. I joined him halfway through the song, adding a harmony. Holmes smiled at me, winking. Then, with the elegance of a gentleman, he dipped me down near the floor. I let out a very un-ladylike shriek, and he started laughing immediately.

"Holmes! That wasn't funny! You should have warned me," I sulked. He smiled and patted me on the cheek playfully.

"It wouldn't have been nearly as fun if you had a warning."

"Oh, shut up."

The dance ended in time, and I resumed my bored state, glaring at my grape juice. I heard a few soft footsteps, and looked up to see a few of the dancers standing in front of me. Specifically, Melanie, Anastasia, Emily, and Judith.

"Hello, Jennifer. Enjoying yourself?" asked Judith kindly enough. I shrugged, guarding my reactions. One of them might be the murder.

"Not really. This is kind of boring," I pointed out. Melanie smiled, her bleached white teeth catching the light and shining directly into my eyes. I winced.

"You must learn to make the best you can of everything," she shot back, her tone not all together friendly. I plastered a smile on, and then started.

"Oh, none of you have met my boyfriend. Melanie, Emily, Anastasia, Judith, this is Sherlock Holmes. Holmes, this is... the dancers," I finished lamely, not feeling like saying their names all over again. He held out a hand, which Emily (to my shock) immediately took.

"A pleasure, Mr. Holmes. We have heard much about you," she said solemnly. She then released his hand, and it was immediately taken by Anastasia. Her dark brown eyes met his, and she seemed to be holding him in a silent showdown. She looked away first.

"Yes... you and your little friends are spoken of often among the dancers," she hissed, her Russian accent particularly strong for some reason. Holmes nodded at her, smiling a bit. Judith took his hand next, her own small one engulfed by his.

"I have heard so much about you! It is an honor to meet the man who solved the Moonscape Club Murders," she cooed. I stared at her in disbelief, and even Holmes gave her a second glance. Our involvement hadn't been announced in the papers, and Judith didn't seem the type involved with the club.

"My grandfather's daughter was the founder of the club. She was one of those killed," she told us, her voice echoing faint sadness and anger. Holmes's hand tightened around hers.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," he said softly. Judith looked at him quietly, and then let go of his hand, fading into the background. Melanie didn't accept his hand, merely bobbed her head instead.

"So, are you enjoying this?" I asked, gesturing to the room filled with people. Judith and Emily shook their heads glumly, while Melanie and Anastasia nodded quickly.

"Oh, yes, it is great fun to see all the actors and instrumentalists before the show begins. There are so many things to talk about," Melanie said excitedly, her cruel demeanor slipping for an instant. Holmes, every intelligent, quickly shifted the conversation.

"I would imagine that the murders are spoken of the most," he said. Judith sighed dramatically.

"Yes, such a pity. Those poor girls... and Jackie. I heard about what happened to Jackie... that Kline girl must have been stunned to open her door and find the... body parts... around her room," cried Judith, playing with her blond hair. I nodded.

"Oh yes. She was crying. It was very bloody."

"You saw it?" Emily asked, surprised. I looked at her, and she blushed. "I mean, I was told that only Amanda saw it."

Holmes shook his head soberly, obviously a bit hesitant to speak of Kline when he knew I wasn't doing to well with her disappearance. "Christine and I saw it as well. Horrible thing. I am glad that you girls were spared of the tragedy."

Melanie sniffed. "I wish I hadn't been. I would have loved to see what went on in their. I would most likely have solved this mystery before Scotland Yard. I mean, they're barely working on this case! Three girls get ripped apart in the city, and that's more important than musicians and dancers being murdered in one area. They probably don't even have a chance of solving that mystery. How hard can it be to solve a murder that is in a contained area? The killer had to of slipped up somewhere... even the smallest of clues can point quite obviously to one person. Like that American case, a while ago. Two collage kids were trying to pull off the perfect murder, and the only thing that screwed them up was a pair of glasses! Can you imagine? Getting caught because your glasses fell off?" Melanie prattled. I blanched, remembering when I had studied that case in history. Gruesome case.

"Ah yes. I remember that case. I don't think that our killer could have messed up their crimes that badly, though, or the Yard would have caught them by now," Holmes reminded her. Melanie shrugged.

"It's impossible to pull of the perfect crime. The killer left something behind. It just takes someone really intelligent to figure out the connection between whatever was left behind and a person. Obviously, the Yard isn't intelligent enough for that," she scowled. Holmes chuckled.

"Well, we knew that."

Melanie laughed, tossing her dark brown curls over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes glittered excitedly.

"So, you know a lot about crime, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, enchanted. Holmes shrugged, putting a hand on my shoulder. I could practically feel the smirk radiating off of him.

"A little," he stated, apparently in the mood for being modest. I snorted, and Melanie glanced at me in confusion.

"A little. Melanie, Holmes is quite the master of crime. He makes the Yard look like idiots," I claimed, grinning. Melanie looked at me, her eyebrows raised.

"That doesn't take much."

Anastasia cleared her throat, looking meaningfully at Melanie. Melanie's eyes sharpened for a moment, and then she smiled apologetically at Holmes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, Jennifer, but we really must be going. We have many other people to speak to tonight," she sighed. Her eyes perked for a moment, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Another time, perhaps? We shall compare wits, Mr. Holmes. I am sure you will not be disappointed."

In an instant, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd, the other dancers following her. Holmes looked after her as she went, a curious smile on his mouth. I tapped him gently, the familiar feeling of jealousy creeping over me.

"Holmes?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you goggling at another girl?" I asked. Holmes looked at me, the curious smile remaining.

"Of course, Watson, but not in the way you think. She's a remarkable girl, but I am far more interested in you."

*************************************************************************************************

"Christine, have you seen my shoe?" I yelled, desperately throwing my dirty laundry in the air in the hopes of unearthing my black sneaker. Christine caught one of my sweaters in her hand and tossed it onto the bed.

"Try the space between the toilet and the shower," she responded, running a comb through her hair. She was already in costume and makeup, so she wasn't in a rush. I dashed into the bathroom, looking for my single Nike shoe, and to my relief, it was there.

"Thanks, Christine," I called.

"Any time," she called back.

I laced up my shoe quickly and glanced at the clock, feeling my stomach rise into my stomach as I anticipated how much time I had left until call. I nearly choked when I saw we only had ten minutes.

"Christine, are you ready?" I asked, coming out of the bathroom. She nodded, yawning tiredly and tossing the brush onto the floor.

"Yeah. Are you driving?"

"Of course."

"We'll never arrive safely," she grumbled.

We met Holmes in the lobby, who was busy combing his hair down. I giggled a bit, which earned me a glare.

"I fell asleep while waiting. In case you haven't noticed, my dearest Watson, but we haven't been getting the best of sleep as of late," he snapped at me. I raised my palms to him, smiling a bit.

"I meant nothing by it. Come on, I'm driving," I told him. Holmes groaned as we began to walk out to the car. "We're all going to die," he moaned.

It was a dismal night, rain coming down in sheets, melting the little bit of snow we had gotten. The sludge coated our nice black shoes, and even started a thin layer upon our trouser legs. Christine didn't seem to mind it- it would probably just add to her costume- but Holmes and I were less than pleased. We walked out to the car in silence.

It was only a five minute drive to the theatre, but we were all grateful for the moments of dryness we received. The rain was absolutely torrential, and we noticed a few people coming in, completely soaked. Todd was, unfortunately, one of them. He shook out his ruined umbrella and then strode over to us.

"Hello, all," he said pleasantly. I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"How can you act so cheerful in this weather?" I complained. Todd shrugged, tugging at Christine's hair in greeting. She slapped him away, but I saw a playful smile slip across her face.

"I don't think it's that bad, actually. I like it. Quite pleasant, really clears the sinus's," he chirped. Christine slapped him gently on the cheek, smiling.

"Clears the sinus's? How can you say that? Mine are absolutely filled to the brim," she reported. Holmes wrinkled his nose, as did Todd.

"Thank you for the information, my lovely Christine. I think we could have lived without it, however," Holmes informed her. Christine smiled, winking at Holmes.

"Hey, anything I can do to help a friend, Sherlock," she bubbled. I rolled my eyes at her. She was in far too good a mood. Especially for one who had recently suffered a tragedy. I felt rather guilty for having a good time when Kline was probably in mortal peril.

Christine stopped in front of the doors that led to the official auditorium, staring at them quietly. Holmes and I stopped also, studying her as her thoughtful features peered at the door. I waved a hand in front of her face.

"What?" I questioned. Christine glanced at me, and then looked back at the doors.

"Those doors are going to open in one hour, and the people are going to flow into the theatre, and they're going to watch a play that we poured our blood into. But they'll never know how much blood was poured into it. I mean, think about it. How many people have died because of this play? Five, I think it was? Possibly six, if Kline... the point is that we are such an ignorant species. We think nothing of what goes on behind the scenes," she observed quietly. I gawked at her in astonishment. But Holmes merely patted her on the arm, smiling gently.

"Good luck tonight, Christine," he murmured. Christine's head shot up, the blue eyes suddenly full of rage.

"You never say good luck on opening night!" she shrieked, her voice resonating. Holmes blinked, and then a grin passed over his face.

"You're right. Break a leg," he corrected himself. Christine nodded in satisfaction.

"Break a leg, both of you. I just know you'll do great. And remember, Jenny- don't piss off Sallay tonight. It would be really annoying to have her glaring at you the entire time," teased Christine. Then, with the briefest of winks and waves, Christine headed off for the backstage area, Todd joining her before she could reach the door.

I gazed at the doors Christine had talked about, wondering what it would be like to not know anything of what went on backstage. But my thoughts ended rather abruptly. I couldn't imagine it- it just wasn't possible. The murders lay heavily on my mind, as I am sure it did for Holmes.

Holmes took my hand, opened the door, and led me inside the theatre. It was almost time to begin.

*************************************************************************************************

"If it takes my last breath I must- The death of just- one man will set me free!" sang Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty at the end of "One Man". The song ended with a tremendous crescendo and beautiful chord, and then I dropped my clarinet into my lap out of utter exhaustion. There were only four more songs left, and only two of them were sung. The next one would be Christine's solo, called "Crickets Prayer".

Claudia smiled at me, patting me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, you're doing fine," she whispered. I grinned at her, and nodded thankfully. Glancing over at Holmes, I saw him bouncing his violin on his knee, his head in his hand. I squinted in the darkness to see what he was doing, not entirely sure. He appeared to be talking to himself. His lips were moving rapidly, and it was nearly impossible to make out his words.

"Strand... pink... dancer..." I managed to interpret. Otherwise, it was a complete mystery to me. Glancing up at the stage, I saw the man who played Moriarty snatch the locket out of Christine's hands, the one she was supposed to give the actor who played Holmes. It was almost time.

I licked my lips nervously, and then licked my reed to make sure it was still wet. I tasted the disgusting taste of mold, and realized tiredly that I hadn't changed my reed in over a month. Sighing, I raised my clarinet to my lips.

"Dear God... Above... I hope that you're there..." Christine sang, her voice perfectly in pitch with the orchestra. Her voice soared as she sang her prayer, praying to God that her friend would be all right. I smiled at the irony of it all. The song ended with Christine's voice dying off in a touching piano solo. I gave her a thumbs up as the play continued, and she spared me the briefest of smiles.

Sitting back in my chair, I waited patiently for the instrumental piece, "London in Flames". It was a particularly hard song, though it shouldn't be. I buzzed my lips impatiently, bobbing my foot up in down. It would be another five minutes at least before I had to get ready.

The five minutes passed smoothly, everything going well on stage. I glanced at Holmes as I raised my clarinet to my lips and prepared to play the first note. To my shock, his violin was next to his feet, and he seemed to be panicking. On closer inspection, he seemed to have thoughts racing through his head. Shrugging, I looked at Sallay, waiting for her cue.

The music began slowly, the music beginning low, with a tuba solo. Then the violin's joined in- except Holmes. His hands were rubbing his temples. By measure five, he was severely agitated. At measure ten, the greatest shock of all came. He shot to his feet, nearly knocking over his stand. His eyes moved to look at me, and I sensed the urgency in them. I leapt to my feet, setting my clarinet on my chair, and then ran over to him, careful not to knock over anything.

"It's Vouche!" he practically yelled in my ear. I blinked a few times, surprised.

"Ok, so sit back down. We get her after the play," I hissed at him. Sallay was glaring at us, and I could see her swearing under her breath. Holmes grabbed my wrist, and I was stunned at how very upset he seemed.

"You don't understand! She's going to kill Christine next. It would be her grand finale, to kill one of the lead actresses as she sang the saddest song of the entire play. Don't you remember the words to the final song?" he muttered. I nodded. Of course I did, they were heartbreaking... and then it hit me.

They were sung by Cricket, who was angry because it would appear that she had prayed for her friend for no reason, because her friend ended up dying. It fit. It fit with what had happened in our own little group. I grabbed Holmes's hand, terrified. He nodded, and we went bolting down the stairs that led to backstage.

As we raced to get backstage, I could hear Christine beginning her song.

"Dear God... Above... I hope that you're there..."

"What do you think you're doing?" Sallay asked, stepping in front of the door we needed to get through. Holmes grabbed her shoulders and shoved her aside.

"Please take care of my friend while she's gone."

Holmes threw open the door, and we went tumbling down the three steps that led to underneath the stage. We ran as fast as we could to the second staircase that would take us up onto the stage.

"It's so unfair! What's the point of a prayer?"

We hurtled up the stairs, and I could hear with dread that Christine's solo was ending. Only one more line, and Emily Vouche was sure to shoot. I grabbed the doorknob to the backstage door and twisted...

"When you knew what he'd do all along."

It was the end of her solo, and we were behind the curtains. Christine stood on stage left, tears streaming down her face. The characters that played Elizabeth and Holmes stood center stage, ready to begin their own solos. Christine was in a great deal of danger.

And then I saw her.

Emily Vouche stood off on stage right, a malicious grin on her face. I saw her raise a very shiny gun in her hands, and aim right for Christine. I gasped in horror, but didn't move from my spot. I saw her undo the safety, and her finger tightened on the trigger...

"Christine!" someone screamed. A blur of tan dashed out onto the stage, knocking Christine to the ground at the same time as the gun went off. There was a terrible scream, and all chaos erupted.

Holmes and I shoved our way onto the stage as people in the audience howled and pushed each other to get away. Christine still sat on the ground, looking at a bloody Todd. She was very white, and looked quite ill. I helped her to her feet as Holmes looked at Todd.

"Are you all right, Todd?" he asked urgently. Todd released his grip that he had on his arm, revealing a hole. The bullet, instead of entering Christine's head as intended, had instead lodged itself in his arm. I looked at it briefly, and saw that it was serious, but he would live. Christine looked murderous.

"Who is it?" she snarled, the blood slowly entering her face again.

"Emily Vouche," I told her. Her eyes looked absolutely livid as she set off, running faster than I had ever seen her run before. Holmes and I were after her in a second.

"You can't hurt her, Christine!" Holmes shouted after her. I heard Christine laugh, but I couldn't see her. It was far too dark backstage.

"Oh, I won't hurt her. I will kill her!" came the enraged shout. Holmes and I increased our pace.

The backstage area was an absolute labyrinth. The curtains alone were enough to confuse anyone, but there were various rooms and hidey-holes than only added to the maze. Holmes grabbed my hand and led me through the network of curtains, chasing after a seething Christine.

"Where is she?" came a very animalistic snarl from my right. I stopped Holmes and turned into a tiny room. Inside was Christine, standing over a rather timid Emily Vouche. But then Emily's fearful look disappeared, and she rose to her full height. It wasn't much- only 5'5 or so- but the maniacal smile that filled her face terrified me.

"Your little friend? Quite, quite dead," Emily declared. Christine screamed and lunged at her. I grabbed her arm, struggling to hold her back. Holmes grabbed the other arm, and together we managed to stop her from hurting the murderous dancer.

"She's toying with you, Christine. Kline isn't dead, don't you see?" Holmes insisted, trying to get her attention. Christine glared at him, and made another attempt to attack Emily. The dancer merely laughed.

"Listen to your friend, Christine. It might do you some good," she giggled. Christine slowed her fighting a bit, but she certainly didn't stop.

"Where is she!?" yelled Christine, startling me. Emily smiled teasingly, her eyes glittering.

"I'll never tell."

As many parts of the case were, this next moment was an utter blur to me. I remember someone shoving me to the ground, and a voice crying out "She has her gun!", and then a very loud noise next to me, but other than that, I recall nothing. The next thing I remember after that was a very thick, red substance pouring onto my hands. I cried out, scared that it was Holmes or Christine- but it wasn't.

Emily's pitiful body had crumbled to the ground, the smoking gun still clutched in her pale, small hands. Her throat seemed to be missing, for some odd reason. There was a large hole where the vocal cords should have been. A dark smile still remained on her face, and I felt my stomach lurch as I looked at her broken body.

Holmes closed his eyes, trying to remove himself from the scene mentally. Even Christine seemed sadly diminished, her anger and rage slipping away to confusion, pain, and sadness. I felt the tears well up in my eyes, and then I started crying, near hysterics. Christine crawled over to me, taking my hand, a few of her own tears falling onto my hand. She hugged me, but soon the stench of blood became to overwhelming.

"Come along, ladies. We must get Scotland Yard," Holmes croaked, his voice hoarse and quiet. Christine helped me to my feet, and together we left Emily Vouche's final resting place.

AN: Kenta Divina- for your absolutely correct guess (how I hate that word...), you receive a party favor!

@--%--- @--%---

Two Moonroses should tide you over for a while, right? Now, next assignment for you (and anyone else)- how did Holmes figure out that it was Emily? The clues are blatantly obvious, unfortunately, so you should have no problems. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, I really appreciated it. My next chapter will be out fairly soon.

Word of warning: the next chapter will be the last chapter of the entire story. After that chapter, there will be a small epilogue. And that's it. The story will be done. I'm not going back on my word. HOWEVER! There will be a very definite sequel to this story, which I'm already plotting out. Please review this chapter... it will bring the next ones up quicker.