Angelina walks out with Mysha's notebook: Mysha couldn't be here since she
is sick in bed. *Sneezing is heard off to the side* So I'm doing this solo.
Here is chapter 2. We are trying our best with the spelling and grammar.
Just remember we aren't English majors here. Oh well. I'm still trying to
survive my math class.
Nightmare walks in eating an apple: Can we just get on with the story? These people have been waiting.
Angelina: Now I know why Mysha makes a break for my 'house' when she can. As MW would say, On With the Show!
Wandering Children
Chapter 2- Open Case
James was the first to be awakened by the alarm. Turning over, he glared at the flashing light. Looking back, Erika reached out for him in her sleep. Regretfully, James slipped from the bed. For once, he wanted to sleep in with his wife next to him. Maybe tomorrow morning he could have his wish. Leaning over he gently kissed her temple. Walking to the door of the room, James grabbed a shirt from the floor and pulled it on. Looking through he spotted his two sons trying to shut off the alarm. James stepped through and made sure the door was shut behind him. There was no need to wake Erika just yet.
After watching his son bicker over the alarm system which Michael eventually shut off, James cleared his throat. Both boys jumped and slowly turned around to face their father. James was still surprised at how similar yet different they look from each other. Michael's black hair was curly and long, much to James' displeasure. Yet Aidan being the elder of the twins, prefer a shorter cut although the curls made it much shorter. James fought the smile when he remembered how Erika would tell him that she was glad they looked like him.
Just then James noticed how quiet his boys were. Something was wrong for them not to be bragging about how the job went. In fact Michael was playing with the button on his cuff while Aidan's foot was tapping the floor quietly. Did they fail to get the information? James wondered. Happy that he had the foresight to close the door so he wouldn't wake up Erika, James stared at his sons.
"Where is the disk?" James asked them in a very calm voice, too calm of a voice.
Aidan relaxed a little as he pulled out the disk to hand his father, "Right here, Papa."
Michael relaxed as well, "I've checked it out. Everything you wanted is on there."
"Excellent," James smiled proudly as he took the disk, "And you left the original behind like I instructed?"
"Yes, sir" both boys nodded eagerly.
Knowing they had their guard down, James went for the kill, "So why are you two so nervous? You weren't followed, were you?"
Aidan knew they were busted and nodded. Even Michael stared at the ground. James felt his temper begin to grow. They picked up a tail. How in zed did they do that? He taught them better than that.
"When?" James bit out.
"Grandpapa heard it on the Yardie radio in Perros." Michael stated softly, "They are the same ones that we ran into at Downing Street"
"They didn't see your face, did they?" James queried trying to keep a tight hold on his temper.
"No, sir. We had our masks on." Aidan assured his father.
"At least you did that right!" James growled, "Of all the stupid, careless things to do! You bring New Scotland Yard here!!!"
"They didn't exactly track us. It seems the head detective decided that one of his star officers should check out a lead with an outside consultant." Michael reported.
"Holmes." James growled and walked right up to his sons, "If Sherlock Holmes comes here to poke his nose around. I'll make sure he finds you. In pieces!"
"It's not him, Papa." Aidan defended. "It's a Holmes but not him. Grandpapa would have killed us if it was him."
Michael's face began to turn red as he thought of his violet eyed inspector and how her badge read Holmes. Could it be her? Did he slip up that she was able to follow him? Michael looked up as his brother was explaining how they could be the kids of their father's arch enemy.
"May be we could just lay low?" Michael suggested, "Eventually she'll stop poking her pretty nose around and go back to New London."
James turned on him in an instant, "I'm going to lay low while two detectives snoop around my home?! I want them gone immediately!"
"What is all this yelling about?" Erika asked as she stepped out the bedroom. Her lithe body wrapped into a sapphire blue robe. All three men turned to her as she glided to her husband's side. She flashed a smile at her sons before turning to her husband, "Well?"
"They picked up a tail." James resorted angrily.
Erika places a calming hand on her husband's arm, "Is that all?" Before James could respond, she turned to her sons and spoke firmly, "You have some work to do then. Since you two were foolish enough to bring them, you need to get rid of them."
Aidan opened his mouth to speak, but Michael said something instead, "They don't know us right? Maybe we can befriend her and find out more about her um mission. Besides she may not see much around here if we cloud up her gorgeous violet eyes with dead ends."
Aidan glared at his brother like he grew a second head. What was Michael saying? Pretty nose, gorgeous eyes? Hell, he was convinced the Yardie was a girl when Grandpapa wouldn't confirm it. Aidan glanced to see if his father noticed the slip up on Michael's part. James was considering Michael's idea rather then his words. Looking back at his brother, Aidan noticed that Michael was turning a very bright red. Aidan noticed his mother staring at Michael as well. Did she notice it too? Erika has a ghost of a smile flitting around her mouth.
James's broke through everyone's thought, "No."
"James!" Erika scolded him. Aidan smiled as his petite mother turned and glared at his tall father. His father was normally fearless when dealing with rivals, rascals, snitches, and even the law itself, but would be abashed when called to carpet by his wife. Erika continued on, "I think we should let them handle it how they choose to. It's their problem. Don't you agree?"
James didn't answer immediately which prompted Erika to elbow him in the ribs. Finally he grunted, "Fine. But I want them out of Paris by the annual Masquerade. Is that understood?"
Michael and Aidan nodded eagerly, thankful for their mother's interference. Erika smiled brightly as she kissed her husband's lips tenderly. James was smiling afterwards as well. Turning gracefully, Erika threw out her arms and smiled at her returning sons.
"Now we have settled that. Come and give your mother a hug." Erika greeted them as Aidan and Michael smiled at her.
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John and Mirielle climbed out of the hover car in front of the massive Opera House. They stretched their legs for a moment before approaching the building. They climbed up the steps and pushed open the doors. "Let's find this Phantom," said the ever so cynical John as he rolled his eyes.
"Yes, let's," said Mirielle as she already started looking at the doors and hinges.
John rolled his eyes again and then pulled her away from the door, "Do you really think that this mysterious phantom thing would use the front doors?" he asked his sister who shrugged in response. Straitening out her shirt collar Mirielle went back to looking for evidence while John probed around for people. "Hello? Anyone here?" he opened a door to a hallway on the left side.
A young Middle-Eastern man came out, "Bonjour," he greeted John, "may I ask who you are?" he said looking over John once.
"John Holmes," he replied taking in the man's appearance as they shook hands. "Do you know of a supposed 'phantom' that lurks here in Paris?" he asked hoping that this bright faced young man would know what he was talking about.
"My name is Akeem, and yes I know of the Phantom. However, he is not supposed. He's as real as you and me. Even more so if you think about it," he smirked towards the obviously English John. "And who is that?" he motioned towards Mirielle who was on her hands and knees basically checking every carpet strand out of place.
"That would be Mirielle Holmes, my sister," he sighed. "I'm afraid she's caught up in her little world right now, but when she realizes that no phantom would use the front door she'll be pleased to meet you."
Just then Mirielle jumped up with a laugh that resembled a bark, "John! Look," she waved him over. On the floor there was mud, "it's consistent with the mud on Downing Street. Our culprits are here! I know it!" she smiled widely as she took out a plastic bag for her evidence.
John bent over the foot print. "It seems to be of a tall man, about six foot three," he thought for a minute, "maybe even six foot four. He is of muscular build and swift," he nodded his head and stood. "We should have taken a print from the scene," he sighed regretfully.
Akeem looked at the two siblings. They were definitely just like their father, or at least just like how his uncle described their father. "I should be going," he abruptly said, "Pleasure to meet you both," he smiled and then turned around and headed for his uncle's home, "I should tell him," he said to himself as he exited the building and headed for the house.
"Strange one," mused John as they continued to look for another set of footprints. "He was so cryptic, I must find out what he meant."
"Shh," scolded Mirielle as she crawled along the floor. She looked rather funny, on her hands and knees, one hand holding a magnifying glass, the other steadying her as she crawled. As she looked, those green eyes flashed in her mind again. They were entrancing and almost inescapable; she shook it off and continued to crawl along the carpet.
As Mirielle crawled John heard a noise coming from the auditorium. He opened the door a little and poked his head through. There was a raven haired girl on the stage practicing a capella scales. Her voice was crystal clear as she stood on the stage in a blue velvet dress. He slowly stepped into the auditorium and stood in the shadows unnoticed. He saw her leave the stage area and go off to the side. Then, a man walked onto the stage. He was blonde and about six feet tall. He looked frustrated as he ran around the stage. John approached him slowly and demurely to make sure he wasn't getting himself into any trouble. "Bonjour," John muttered as he approached the stage.
The man's angry brown eyes turned to him, "Bonjour," he replied quickly. "What do you want?" he rudely asked as his eyes searched the stage and the audience.
"We're tracking a robbery and we happened to trace the perpetrators to the opera house. Has anyone been acting strangely? Possibly avoiding other people, being more secretive than usual?" John asked impatiently, his natural yearning to be investigating taking over little by little.
"I'd check out Noir. She's always avoiding everyone; secretive too," he smirked. "She's been avoiding everyone lately. I think she's up to something, but I can't be sure. However, no one can trust that girl."
"And why is that?" quickly interjected John, his mind begging for more information.
The blonde man, or Dante, looked at John and smirked, "Because she's a woman, a dangerous woman at that. Besides, no one can trust a prima donna, no matter how docile they seem."
Dante walked away leaving John on the stage alone to contemplate his thoughts. As John paced Mirielle continued to crawl in the lobby.
Dante approached the lobby doors. As he swung the door open easily he saw her on the floor, her keen features forming an intellectual profile. Her violet eyes glimmering in the dim lighting while her sandy hair encircled her face like a halo and dangled down slightly in front of her as she hunched over.
"Bonjour mademoiselle," Dante said putting on his most charming voice and facial expression.
She waved her hand at him a murmured, "Hi," as she continued to investigate. Dante, thoroughly disgusted with her total lack of attention to him walked out of the Opera House and down the stairs. He scowled as he walked down the street thinking of ways to attract her attention.
Michael walked upstairs and sighed a large sigh of relief. 'Now,' he thought, 'what to do about Father?' He decided the only way to clear his mind was to take a walk. As he walked he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Upon reaching the lobby he threw the doors open and started towards the stairs. Suddenly, he tripped forward and almost fell over something, looking down he saw someone on the floor.
"Je regrette," he sputtered out embarrassedly, then he asked trying to lighten the obviously tense atmosphere,"Is Buquet getting anal about the carpets?"
"I don't know any Buquet," said Mirielle as she looked up, "Now would you please take your foot off my hand so I can get back to work?" she scoffed trying to get her hand out from underneath his foot.
"Oh!" he said, "I'm sorry."
After tripping he didn't even realize he had stepped on her hand. As she looked up the shock hit him, 'It's her,' he thought to himself. He offered his hand to help her up and then tried to remain as calm as possible. She jumped up without taking his hand and wiped herself off.
"It's okay," she said politely enough to pass off that she cared. The girl who was about five feet tall and six inches looked up at his face, which was five inches higher than her own, and then frantically looked down.
"Blast it!" she sneered, "where did my magnifying glass go?"
After a frustrated expression she got back on her knees and began to crawl around on the floor again.
"Where did it go?" she said as she looked underneath a chair.
Michael chuckled to himself as he got on his hands and knees and began to look around as well. They looked for several minutes until Michael found it underneath a bookcase that was basically ornamental.
"Mademoiselle," he said clutching it in his hand for several moments, "I found it."
Mirielle looked to him and then ran over quickly, "Thanks or in Paris, merci. Say, has anyone been acting strangely lately? Avoiding the other member's of the company? Anyone more secretive than usual?"
Just as Michael was trying to figure out a proper excuse for himself, the other Holmes child came into the room.
"Mirielle, I talked to some guy and he said to -" he stopped talking and looked to Michael and then back to Mirielle. Mirielle was carelessly leaning up against the wall as this strange man handed her what appeared to be her magnifying glass. Stepping forward John asked as he sized up the stranger, "And you are?"
"Michael," he replied showing no inclination of giving a last name.
John gave this Michael person a suspicious glance and then turned to his sister. He was about to say something to her when he spied a young girl running into the lobby towards them.
"Michael!!" a beautiful voice shouted from across the lobby.
Michael's smile grew as he turned to see a raven haired young lady running down the main stairs. Her blue dress billowed out behind her as she gracefully crossed the lobby to her brother. Mirielle smiled at the look of joy as Michael caught the girl in a bear hug.
"Christine! I've been looking all over for you." Michael smiled as he picked Christine off the ground and spun her around.
"I know." Christine giggled, "Buquet told me you were here."
"He wasn't very helpful. Let me tell you. Sent me on a wild goose chase trying to find you."
"Have you seen Mama yet? She was worried that you and Aidan wouldn't make it in last night." Christine related, "Papa took her out to take her mind off of it."
"I saw her earlier. How are you doing, little sister? I heard you got the lead."
Christine beamed brightly, "I'll be playing Eliza Doolittle."
"Ah My Fair Lady. I think you'll be perfect for it." Michael grinned.
"Oh who are your friends, Michael?" Christine smiled when she saw John and Mirielle standing off to the side.
"Where are my manners?" Michael smirked, "This is my little talented sister, Christine Noir."
Mirielle smiled charmingly at the young singer, "A pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle. Inspector Mirielle Holmes."
Christine grinned then turned to John, "And you are?"
John paused for a moment. She was beautiful young lady with twinkling blue eyes. After they stared at each other for a few moments, John took her hand and kissed it, "John Holmes."
"Monsieur Holmes." Christine smiled brightly.
He was a handsome man, she thought to herself. Not like that Dante who was constantly trying to be charming to her. The idiot didn't think she could see through his act. He was only charming because he thought it would hurt her mother to see Christine with him. Charming with words alone didn't impress Christine. But this John had manners as well as a nice voice.
Christine smiled at him. John smiled back hoping to ease what he was about to do, "Mademoiselle, it a pleasure to see you. May I ask you a few questions?"
"Of course. I would like to help." Christine answered happily.
"Where were you last night?" John asked firmly.
"Excuse me?" Christine stammered caught off guard by the question.
"Can you tell me where you were last night?" John repeated again.
Christine looked at Michael with an icy glare, "Are you joking?"
"No, Your whereabouts?"
"I was home, Monsieur, with my parents." Christine haughtily replied beginning to question her judgment of the man called John.
"But you said your parents went out." John pointed out, "Can anyone confirm you were home all night."
"Our cat, Ayesha." Christine smirked, "I can fetch her if you want to question her."
"That won't be necessary." John glared at her, "Do you know anything about a robbery of 10 Downing Street?"
Christine went from mad to anger in no time flat. Michael grinned as John began to dig his grave. His sister's fist began to clench and unclench as John continued to question her answers. Michael took Mirielle's arm and took a step away.
He smiled at her and whispered, "I don't want you to get hurt when Christine lets herself loose on him."
"I don't know any Downing Street." Christine denied.
"Come, come Mademoiselle. Downing Street is the center of government in New London. Surely you have heard of it."
"Monsieur, the last time I was in New London I was ten years old."
"Are you sure?"
"Are you calling me a liar?" Christine hissed as she glared at John.
"No, I won't dream of it. It's just you are a little fuzz on a few things." John chuckled slightly hoping to ease Christine. Christine smiled sweetly causing Michael took a huge step back. Mirielle did the same. Unaware of the impending danger, John added, "I mean you could have had a lover over with you while they are gone."
John felt his face turn with the force of the slap that hit him. Christine stood in front of him literally shaking with anger. Her blue eyes glared at him icily. John suddenly realized that he crossed a line somewhere, he just wasn't sure where.
"I don't have one. Never did despite what you think" Christine bit out, before swearing at him in French.
John looked at her in shock of the language coming from her mouth. Behind her, Michael was smiling obviously amused as was Mirielle. When she was done, Christine turned and stalked away.
"Excuse me, mademoiselle," Michael said to Mirielle, "I have to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone. It was a pleasure to meet you."
"The same." Mirielle chuckled as Michael chased his little sister. She could hear him teasing her trying to get her to laugh.
Mirielle walked over to her stunned little brother. Still smiling, she stated the obvious, "You so deserved it."
John went to speak except his jaw ached like hell. That girl had a hell of follow through. Rubbing his jaw, he decided to ignore his sister and walked to the men's bathroom. Mirielle watched her brother walk into the bathroom and then shook her head and laughed. He never learned no matter how many times their mother had to talk to him about it. He had inherited their father's old feelings towards women but it almost seemed that they were a little less potent.
She turned around and decided there was nothing left to learn from the lobby. Moving towards the auditorium she decided to go into the back stage area. Climbing onto the stage she looked out and shivered.
"How could people get up here and perform," she shuddered again looking at the stage.
She walked over to the curtains and examined them carefully; the golden fringe and red crushed velvet were soft underneath her touch. Taking out her magnifying glass she examined the fabric, checking to see if anyone had recently touched it, or pulled it.
Deciding that it looked as normal as it could be she looked at the scenery, it was normal for a stage. As she went over to the props Aidan and Buquet were reminiscing.
"What do you think of having Krissy take over for me when I retire?" asked Buquet as they leisurely strolled along.
"Considering the fact that she can, and most likely will rule with an iron fist, I think it would be perfect," he chuckled lightly. Aidan ran his hand through his short hair and then spotted someone on the stage, "Buquet, I think we have a visitor."
"What are you doing?" he asked her as she started to move a table. He shouted walking as fast as he could towards Mirielle, "You can't move that. Who are you? What are you doing?"
She accidentally dropped the table and turned around, "Oh. I was just, um investigating. I'm sorry if I moved anything, I didn't mean to intrude."
Aidan smirked as Buquet inspected the table.
"You're lucky it's not broken," he squinted to see the name on her badge, "Mademoiselle Mirielle. If it were the Phantom might want to have a few words with you, just ask - oh wait you can't. Oh you don't believe me Mademoiselle? It's true, all of it is true. The Phantom will come after you when you least expect it, the Punjab Lasso in hand. You could be minding your own business when," he made a chocking noise and pretended to hang himself, "and I am on personal terms with the Phantom so watch your step on my stage."
Mirielle looked at Buquet with wide eyes and her mouth hanging. Walking backwards she stammered, "Well I'll be uh, sure to remember that." Then she jumped off the stage and briskly walked towards the lobby.
"You have way too much fun doing that," smirked Aidan as the door shut behind her.
Buquet looked at Aidan and sighed, "Considering who my friends are, don't you think I would want to have a little fun sometimes?" Aidan shook his head and continued to walk along the backstage area talking with Buquet about the management of the theatre.
Mirielle ran down the hallway trying to get away from Buquet's threats. She finally slowed down enough and went to turn a corner only to hit someone and fall down. Mirielle hit the ground with an oofed while whatever she hit gave a yelp of pain. She looked up to see an older woman with long brown hair pulled into a pony tail rubbing her chest where Mirielle's magnifying glass hit her. The woman took a deep breath and looked at Mirielle while out stretching a hand.
"Je regette, cherie." The woman smiled, "I need to put a mirror up so you can see around the corner.
Mirielle took her hand and felt rubber rub her hand. Mirielle noticed the palms of the lady's hands were wrapped in electric tape. Mirielle let go quickly and the lady laughed lightly. Taking advantage of the lady's distractedness, Mirielle tried to memorize what she looked like. The lady was wearing worn old jeans that had several tears in them. Her white shirt was covered by a flannel shirt. Mirielle's eye snapped up when she heard the lady talk again.
"I won't bite, cherie, despite what the men on my crew will tell you." The lady teased.
"I'm sorry if I offended you." Mirielle began but the lady held up a hand silencing her.
"Don't worry about it. You look like you seen a ghost."
"Well, I was just warned off the main stage by a strange man after trying to find clues."
The lady smiled, "Ahh, Buquet is back at it again. Pay him no mind, he is a jokester and wanted to pull your chain."
"I knew the Phantom wasn't real." Mirielle grinned triumphantly.
"Now while I love to call him crazy, he is right about that." the lady admitted as she rubbed her neck, "The Phantom is quite real. Even his lasso is real."
"The Punjab Lasso? How do you know?" Mirielle asked.
"My first year here, I encountered one in the basements. If it wasn't for my partner, I wouldn't be here. I didn't believe either at the time."
"Can you defend yourself from it?"
"Yes, never ever travel down there alone and always have your hand to the level of your eyes. You'll be safe that way. Since you don't believe in the Phantom, why are you here?"
"I'm investigating a robbery of Downing Street in New London. One of our clues pointed to here. Have you seen any things strange around here?" Mirielle questioned as professionally as possible until the lady started laughing loudly, "Did I say something funny?"
The lady calmed down, "Oui, cherie. You are in the house of the Phantom Of the Opera. Strange things happen all the time here. But more than usual, no. I don't recall anything."
"Merci."
"No problem. If you need any backstage help especially with Buquet, just ask for Krissy. All the guys know me." Krissy smiled.
"Thank you again. Inspector Holmes."
"Pleasure. Now I have a stage manager to ream out. Au revoir."
Mirielle waved until Krissy was gone around the corner. Mirielle continued down the hallway looking for her brother.
Nightmare walks in eating an apple: Can we just get on with the story? These people have been waiting.
Angelina: Now I know why Mysha makes a break for my 'house' when she can. As MW would say, On With the Show!
Wandering Children
Chapter 2- Open Case
James was the first to be awakened by the alarm. Turning over, he glared at the flashing light. Looking back, Erika reached out for him in her sleep. Regretfully, James slipped from the bed. For once, he wanted to sleep in with his wife next to him. Maybe tomorrow morning he could have his wish. Leaning over he gently kissed her temple. Walking to the door of the room, James grabbed a shirt from the floor and pulled it on. Looking through he spotted his two sons trying to shut off the alarm. James stepped through and made sure the door was shut behind him. There was no need to wake Erika just yet.
After watching his son bicker over the alarm system which Michael eventually shut off, James cleared his throat. Both boys jumped and slowly turned around to face their father. James was still surprised at how similar yet different they look from each other. Michael's black hair was curly and long, much to James' displeasure. Yet Aidan being the elder of the twins, prefer a shorter cut although the curls made it much shorter. James fought the smile when he remembered how Erika would tell him that she was glad they looked like him.
Just then James noticed how quiet his boys were. Something was wrong for them not to be bragging about how the job went. In fact Michael was playing with the button on his cuff while Aidan's foot was tapping the floor quietly. Did they fail to get the information? James wondered. Happy that he had the foresight to close the door so he wouldn't wake up Erika, James stared at his sons.
"Where is the disk?" James asked them in a very calm voice, too calm of a voice.
Aidan relaxed a little as he pulled out the disk to hand his father, "Right here, Papa."
Michael relaxed as well, "I've checked it out. Everything you wanted is on there."
"Excellent," James smiled proudly as he took the disk, "And you left the original behind like I instructed?"
"Yes, sir" both boys nodded eagerly.
Knowing they had their guard down, James went for the kill, "So why are you two so nervous? You weren't followed, were you?"
Aidan knew they were busted and nodded. Even Michael stared at the ground. James felt his temper begin to grow. They picked up a tail. How in zed did they do that? He taught them better than that.
"When?" James bit out.
"Grandpapa heard it on the Yardie radio in Perros." Michael stated softly, "They are the same ones that we ran into at Downing Street"
"They didn't see your face, did they?" James queried trying to keep a tight hold on his temper.
"No, sir. We had our masks on." Aidan assured his father.
"At least you did that right!" James growled, "Of all the stupid, careless things to do! You bring New Scotland Yard here!!!"
"They didn't exactly track us. It seems the head detective decided that one of his star officers should check out a lead with an outside consultant." Michael reported.
"Holmes." James growled and walked right up to his sons, "If Sherlock Holmes comes here to poke his nose around. I'll make sure he finds you. In pieces!"
"It's not him, Papa." Aidan defended. "It's a Holmes but not him. Grandpapa would have killed us if it was him."
Michael's face began to turn red as he thought of his violet eyed inspector and how her badge read Holmes. Could it be her? Did he slip up that she was able to follow him? Michael looked up as his brother was explaining how they could be the kids of their father's arch enemy.
"May be we could just lay low?" Michael suggested, "Eventually she'll stop poking her pretty nose around and go back to New London."
James turned on him in an instant, "I'm going to lay low while two detectives snoop around my home?! I want them gone immediately!"
"What is all this yelling about?" Erika asked as she stepped out the bedroom. Her lithe body wrapped into a sapphire blue robe. All three men turned to her as she glided to her husband's side. She flashed a smile at her sons before turning to her husband, "Well?"
"They picked up a tail." James resorted angrily.
Erika places a calming hand on her husband's arm, "Is that all?" Before James could respond, she turned to her sons and spoke firmly, "You have some work to do then. Since you two were foolish enough to bring them, you need to get rid of them."
Aidan opened his mouth to speak, but Michael said something instead, "They don't know us right? Maybe we can befriend her and find out more about her um mission. Besides she may not see much around here if we cloud up her gorgeous violet eyes with dead ends."
Aidan glared at his brother like he grew a second head. What was Michael saying? Pretty nose, gorgeous eyes? Hell, he was convinced the Yardie was a girl when Grandpapa wouldn't confirm it. Aidan glanced to see if his father noticed the slip up on Michael's part. James was considering Michael's idea rather then his words. Looking back at his brother, Aidan noticed that Michael was turning a very bright red. Aidan noticed his mother staring at Michael as well. Did she notice it too? Erika has a ghost of a smile flitting around her mouth.
James's broke through everyone's thought, "No."
"James!" Erika scolded him. Aidan smiled as his petite mother turned and glared at his tall father. His father was normally fearless when dealing with rivals, rascals, snitches, and even the law itself, but would be abashed when called to carpet by his wife. Erika continued on, "I think we should let them handle it how they choose to. It's their problem. Don't you agree?"
James didn't answer immediately which prompted Erika to elbow him in the ribs. Finally he grunted, "Fine. But I want them out of Paris by the annual Masquerade. Is that understood?"
Michael and Aidan nodded eagerly, thankful for their mother's interference. Erika smiled brightly as she kissed her husband's lips tenderly. James was smiling afterwards as well. Turning gracefully, Erika threw out her arms and smiled at her returning sons.
"Now we have settled that. Come and give your mother a hug." Erika greeted them as Aidan and Michael smiled at her.
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John and Mirielle climbed out of the hover car in front of the massive Opera House. They stretched their legs for a moment before approaching the building. They climbed up the steps and pushed open the doors. "Let's find this Phantom," said the ever so cynical John as he rolled his eyes.
"Yes, let's," said Mirielle as she already started looking at the doors and hinges.
John rolled his eyes again and then pulled her away from the door, "Do you really think that this mysterious phantom thing would use the front doors?" he asked his sister who shrugged in response. Straitening out her shirt collar Mirielle went back to looking for evidence while John probed around for people. "Hello? Anyone here?" he opened a door to a hallway on the left side.
A young Middle-Eastern man came out, "Bonjour," he greeted John, "may I ask who you are?" he said looking over John once.
"John Holmes," he replied taking in the man's appearance as they shook hands. "Do you know of a supposed 'phantom' that lurks here in Paris?" he asked hoping that this bright faced young man would know what he was talking about.
"My name is Akeem, and yes I know of the Phantom. However, he is not supposed. He's as real as you and me. Even more so if you think about it," he smirked towards the obviously English John. "And who is that?" he motioned towards Mirielle who was on her hands and knees basically checking every carpet strand out of place.
"That would be Mirielle Holmes, my sister," he sighed. "I'm afraid she's caught up in her little world right now, but when she realizes that no phantom would use the front door she'll be pleased to meet you."
Just then Mirielle jumped up with a laugh that resembled a bark, "John! Look," she waved him over. On the floor there was mud, "it's consistent with the mud on Downing Street. Our culprits are here! I know it!" she smiled widely as she took out a plastic bag for her evidence.
John bent over the foot print. "It seems to be of a tall man, about six foot three," he thought for a minute, "maybe even six foot four. He is of muscular build and swift," he nodded his head and stood. "We should have taken a print from the scene," he sighed regretfully.
Akeem looked at the two siblings. They were definitely just like their father, or at least just like how his uncle described their father. "I should be going," he abruptly said, "Pleasure to meet you both," he smiled and then turned around and headed for his uncle's home, "I should tell him," he said to himself as he exited the building and headed for the house.
"Strange one," mused John as they continued to look for another set of footprints. "He was so cryptic, I must find out what he meant."
"Shh," scolded Mirielle as she crawled along the floor. She looked rather funny, on her hands and knees, one hand holding a magnifying glass, the other steadying her as she crawled. As she looked, those green eyes flashed in her mind again. They were entrancing and almost inescapable; she shook it off and continued to crawl along the carpet.
As Mirielle crawled John heard a noise coming from the auditorium. He opened the door a little and poked his head through. There was a raven haired girl on the stage practicing a capella scales. Her voice was crystal clear as she stood on the stage in a blue velvet dress. He slowly stepped into the auditorium and stood in the shadows unnoticed. He saw her leave the stage area and go off to the side. Then, a man walked onto the stage. He was blonde and about six feet tall. He looked frustrated as he ran around the stage. John approached him slowly and demurely to make sure he wasn't getting himself into any trouble. "Bonjour," John muttered as he approached the stage.
The man's angry brown eyes turned to him, "Bonjour," he replied quickly. "What do you want?" he rudely asked as his eyes searched the stage and the audience.
"We're tracking a robbery and we happened to trace the perpetrators to the opera house. Has anyone been acting strangely? Possibly avoiding other people, being more secretive than usual?" John asked impatiently, his natural yearning to be investigating taking over little by little.
"I'd check out Noir. She's always avoiding everyone; secretive too," he smirked. "She's been avoiding everyone lately. I think she's up to something, but I can't be sure. However, no one can trust that girl."
"And why is that?" quickly interjected John, his mind begging for more information.
The blonde man, or Dante, looked at John and smirked, "Because she's a woman, a dangerous woman at that. Besides, no one can trust a prima donna, no matter how docile they seem."
Dante walked away leaving John on the stage alone to contemplate his thoughts. As John paced Mirielle continued to crawl in the lobby.
Dante approached the lobby doors. As he swung the door open easily he saw her on the floor, her keen features forming an intellectual profile. Her violet eyes glimmering in the dim lighting while her sandy hair encircled her face like a halo and dangled down slightly in front of her as she hunched over.
"Bonjour mademoiselle," Dante said putting on his most charming voice and facial expression.
She waved her hand at him a murmured, "Hi," as she continued to investigate. Dante, thoroughly disgusted with her total lack of attention to him walked out of the Opera House and down the stairs. He scowled as he walked down the street thinking of ways to attract her attention.
Michael walked upstairs and sighed a large sigh of relief. 'Now,' he thought, 'what to do about Father?' He decided the only way to clear his mind was to take a walk. As he walked he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Upon reaching the lobby he threw the doors open and started towards the stairs. Suddenly, he tripped forward and almost fell over something, looking down he saw someone on the floor.
"Je regrette," he sputtered out embarrassedly, then he asked trying to lighten the obviously tense atmosphere,"Is Buquet getting anal about the carpets?"
"I don't know any Buquet," said Mirielle as she looked up, "Now would you please take your foot off my hand so I can get back to work?" she scoffed trying to get her hand out from underneath his foot.
"Oh!" he said, "I'm sorry."
After tripping he didn't even realize he had stepped on her hand. As she looked up the shock hit him, 'It's her,' he thought to himself. He offered his hand to help her up and then tried to remain as calm as possible. She jumped up without taking his hand and wiped herself off.
"It's okay," she said politely enough to pass off that she cared. The girl who was about five feet tall and six inches looked up at his face, which was five inches higher than her own, and then frantically looked down.
"Blast it!" she sneered, "where did my magnifying glass go?"
After a frustrated expression she got back on her knees and began to crawl around on the floor again.
"Where did it go?" she said as she looked underneath a chair.
Michael chuckled to himself as he got on his hands and knees and began to look around as well. They looked for several minutes until Michael found it underneath a bookcase that was basically ornamental.
"Mademoiselle," he said clutching it in his hand for several moments, "I found it."
Mirielle looked to him and then ran over quickly, "Thanks or in Paris, merci. Say, has anyone been acting strangely lately? Avoiding the other member's of the company? Anyone more secretive than usual?"
Just as Michael was trying to figure out a proper excuse for himself, the other Holmes child came into the room.
"Mirielle, I talked to some guy and he said to -" he stopped talking and looked to Michael and then back to Mirielle. Mirielle was carelessly leaning up against the wall as this strange man handed her what appeared to be her magnifying glass. Stepping forward John asked as he sized up the stranger, "And you are?"
"Michael," he replied showing no inclination of giving a last name.
John gave this Michael person a suspicious glance and then turned to his sister. He was about to say something to her when he spied a young girl running into the lobby towards them.
"Michael!!" a beautiful voice shouted from across the lobby.
Michael's smile grew as he turned to see a raven haired young lady running down the main stairs. Her blue dress billowed out behind her as she gracefully crossed the lobby to her brother. Mirielle smiled at the look of joy as Michael caught the girl in a bear hug.
"Christine! I've been looking all over for you." Michael smiled as he picked Christine off the ground and spun her around.
"I know." Christine giggled, "Buquet told me you were here."
"He wasn't very helpful. Let me tell you. Sent me on a wild goose chase trying to find you."
"Have you seen Mama yet? She was worried that you and Aidan wouldn't make it in last night." Christine related, "Papa took her out to take her mind off of it."
"I saw her earlier. How are you doing, little sister? I heard you got the lead."
Christine beamed brightly, "I'll be playing Eliza Doolittle."
"Ah My Fair Lady. I think you'll be perfect for it." Michael grinned.
"Oh who are your friends, Michael?" Christine smiled when she saw John and Mirielle standing off to the side.
"Where are my manners?" Michael smirked, "This is my little talented sister, Christine Noir."
Mirielle smiled charmingly at the young singer, "A pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle. Inspector Mirielle Holmes."
Christine grinned then turned to John, "And you are?"
John paused for a moment. She was beautiful young lady with twinkling blue eyes. After they stared at each other for a few moments, John took her hand and kissed it, "John Holmes."
"Monsieur Holmes." Christine smiled brightly.
He was a handsome man, she thought to herself. Not like that Dante who was constantly trying to be charming to her. The idiot didn't think she could see through his act. He was only charming because he thought it would hurt her mother to see Christine with him. Charming with words alone didn't impress Christine. But this John had manners as well as a nice voice.
Christine smiled at him. John smiled back hoping to ease what he was about to do, "Mademoiselle, it a pleasure to see you. May I ask you a few questions?"
"Of course. I would like to help." Christine answered happily.
"Where were you last night?" John asked firmly.
"Excuse me?" Christine stammered caught off guard by the question.
"Can you tell me where you were last night?" John repeated again.
Christine looked at Michael with an icy glare, "Are you joking?"
"No, Your whereabouts?"
"I was home, Monsieur, with my parents." Christine haughtily replied beginning to question her judgment of the man called John.
"But you said your parents went out." John pointed out, "Can anyone confirm you were home all night."
"Our cat, Ayesha." Christine smirked, "I can fetch her if you want to question her."
"That won't be necessary." John glared at her, "Do you know anything about a robbery of 10 Downing Street?"
Christine went from mad to anger in no time flat. Michael grinned as John began to dig his grave. His sister's fist began to clench and unclench as John continued to question her answers. Michael took Mirielle's arm and took a step away.
He smiled at her and whispered, "I don't want you to get hurt when Christine lets herself loose on him."
"I don't know any Downing Street." Christine denied.
"Come, come Mademoiselle. Downing Street is the center of government in New London. Surely you have heard of it."
"Monsieur, the last time I was in New London I was ten years old."
"Are you sure?"
"Are you calling me a liar?" Christine hissed as she glared at John.
"No, I won't dream of it. It's just you are a little fuzz on a few things." John chuckled slightly hoping to ease Christine. Christine smiled sweetly causing Michael took a huge step back. Mirielle did the same. Unaware of the impending danger, John added, "I mean you could have had a lover over with you while they are gone."
John felt his face turn with the force of the slap that hit him. Christine stood in front of him literally shaking with anger. Her blue eyes glared at him icily. John suddenly realized that he crossed a line somewhere, he just wasn't sure where.
"I don't have one. Never did despite what you think" Christine bit out, before swearing at him in French.
John looked at her in shock of the language coming from her mouth. Behind her, Michael was smiling obviously amused as was Mirielle. When she was done, Christine turned and stalked away.
"Excuse me, mademoiselle," Michael said to Mirielle, "I have to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone. It was a pleasure to meet you."
"The same." Mirielle chuckled as Michael chased his little sister. She could hear him teasing her trying to get her to laugh.
Mirielle walked over to her stunned little brother. Still smiling, she stated the obvious, "You so deserved it."
John went to speak except his jaw ached like hell. That girl had a hell of follow through. Rubbing his jaw, he decided to ignore his sister and walked to the men's bathroom. Mirielle watched her brother walk into the bathroom and then shook her head and laughed. He never learned no matter how many times their mother had to talk to him about it. He had inherited their father's old feelings towards women but it almost seemed that they were a little less potent.
She turned around and decided there was nothing left to learn from the lobby. Moving towards the auditorium she decided to go into the back stage area. Climbing onto the stage she looked out and shivered.
"How could people get up here and perform," she shuddered again looking at the stage.
She walked over to the curtains and examined them carefully; the golden fringe and red crushed velvet were soft underneath her touch. Taking out her magnifying glass she examined the fabric, checking to see if anyone had recently touched it, or pulled it.
Deciding that it looked as normal as it could be she looked at the scenery, it was normal for a stage. As she went over to the props Aidan and Buquet were reminiscing.
"What do you think of having Krissy take over for me when I retire?" asked Buquet as they leisurely strolled along.
"Considering the fact that she can, and most likely will rule with an iron fist, I think it would be perfect," he chuckled lightly. Aidan ran his hand through his short hair and then spotted someone on the stage, "Buquet, I think we have a visitor."
"What are you doing?" he asked her as she started to move a table. He shouted walking as fast as he could towards Mirielle, "You can't move that. Who are you? What are you doing?"
She accidentally dropped the table and turned around, "Oh. I was just, um investigating. I'm sorry if I moved anything, I didn't mean to intrude."
Aidan smirked as Buquet inspected the table.
"You're lucky it's not broken," he squinted to see the name on her badge, "Mademoiselle Mirielle. If it were the Phantom might want to have a few words with you, just ask - oh wait you can't. Oh you don't believe me Mademoiselle? It's true, all of it is true. The Phantom will come after you when you least expect it, the Punjab Lasso in hand. You could be minding your own business when," he made a chocking noise and pretended to hang himself, "and I am on personal terms with the Phantom so watch your step on my stage."
Mirielle looked at Buquet with wide eyes and her mouth hanging. Walking backwards she stammered, "Well I'll be uh, sure to remember that." Then she jumped off the stage and briskly walked towards the lobby.
"You have way too much fun doing that," smirked Aidan as the door shut behind her.
Buquet looked at Aidan and sighed, "Considering who my friends are, don't you think I would want to have a little fun sometimes?" Aidan shook his head and continued to walk along the backstage area talking with Buquet about the management of the theatre.
Mirielle ran down the hallway trying to get away from Buquet's threats. She finally slowed down enough and went to turn a corner only to hit someone and fall down. Mirielle hit the ground with an oofed while whatever she hit gave a yelp of pain. She looked up to see an older woman with long brown hair pulled into a pony tail rubbing her chest where Mirielle's magnifying glass hit her. The woman took a deep breath and looked at Mirielle while out stretching a hand.
"Je regette, cherie." The woman smiled, "I need to put a mirror up so you can see around the corner.
Mirielle took her hand and felt rubber rub her hand. Mirielle noticed the palms of the lady's hands were wrapped in electric tape. Mirielle let go quickly and the lady laughed lightly. Taking advantage of the lady's distractedness, Mirielle tried to memorize what she looked like. The lady was wearing worn old jeans that had several tears in them. Her white shirt was covered by a flannel shirt. Mirielle's eye snapped up when she heard the lady talk again.
"I won't bite, cherie, despite what the men on my crew will tell you." The lady teased.
"I'm sorry if I offended you." Mirielle began but the lady held up a hand silencing her.
"Don't worry about it. You look like you seen a ghost."
"Well, I was just warned off the main stage by a strange man after trying to find clues."
The lady smiled, "Ahh, Buquet is back at it again. Pay him no mind, he is a jokester and wanted to pull your chain."
"I knew the Phantom wasn't real." Mirielle grinned triumphantly.
"Now while I love to call him crazy, he is right about that." the lady admitted as she rubbed her neck, "The Phantom is quite real. Even his lasso is real."
"The Punjab Lasso? How do you know?" Mirielle asked.
"My first year here, I encountered one in the basements. If it wasn't for my partner, I wouldn't be here. I didn't believe either at the time."
"Can you defend yourself from it?"
"Yes, never ever travel down there alone and always have your hand to the level of your eyes. You'll be safe that way. Since you don't believe in the Phantom, why are you here?"
"I'm investigating a robbery of Downing Street in New London. One of our clues pointed to here. Have you seen any things strange around here?" Mirielle questioned as professionally as possible until the lady started laughing loudly, "Did I say something funny?"
The lady calmed down, "Oui, cherie. You are in the house of the Phantom Of the Opera. Strange things happen all the time here. But more than usual, no. I don't recall anything."
"Merci."
"No problem. If you need any backstage help especially with Buquet, just ask for Krissy. All the guys know me." Krissy smiled.
"Thank you again. Inspector Holmes."
"Pleasure. Now I have a stage manager to ream out. Au revoir."
Mirielle waved until Krissy was gone around the corner. Mirielle continued down the hallway looking for her brother.