A Sign: No Author's notes due to an unexpected creative streak. However
management would like people to start reviewing or The Phantom Teddy Bear
will be meeting Mr. Sharp Pointy Sword. Thank you and on with the show.
Wandering Children
Chapter 5- Beautiful Music.
Mirielle walked into the hotel room quietly. She smiled warmly as her brother slept, 'So much for having him listen to the tape now,' she thought. Sitting down in front of the screen she dialed home. Her mother picked up.
"Hi Mum," she smiled a little distractedly.
"Hello Mir," Beth replied, "What's wrong? You look upset."
"I just wanted to tell you that John and I haven't found anything yet. Well aside from the fact that we shouldn't touch the prop table and there is some freaky Middle-Eastern guy named Nadir stalking the place. We're still looking for some things and my meeting with Madame Noir didn't help either. She wasted the whole interview trying to make me deduce who her husband was, and as dad always says, 'never make assumptions without proper evidence.'"
"I know, I know." she smiled sympathetically, "You'll find something. I'm sure of it. Besides, inside Nadir is a big teddy bear" Beth then smirked and teasingly asked, "Did you meet the Phantom yet?"
Mirielle chuckled at the comment about Nadir and said, "First of all, that man could never be anything but scary and actually," Mirielle replied, her expression darkening, "I did tonight. He was intimidating that's for sure. He kept saying something about how we all wear our masks and gah, it was so confusing!"
"Well, I think I know what he meant," Beth said reassuringly, "Tell you what, go to 14 Rouier Avenue and talk to your Great Uncle Leroux. I'm sure he'll be able to help. Just remember Mirielle, do what you think is right. Don't let anything stand in your way."
"I will Mum, but I better get going. I want to go over the tape again," she smiled falsely.
"Bye Mir, I hope you look up your Uncle. He'll be glad to see you again, after all, last time he saw you, you couldn't talk," added Beth before they disconnected.
"Uncle Leroux," mused Mirielle, "well I suppose that's where I'm off to tomorrow."
Looking through her bag she pulled out a tee shirt and shorts. She walked into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and then changed into her pajamas. After reviewing the tape four times, she climbed between the sheets and immediately fell asleep the phantom's words ringing through her head.
The next morning Mirielle woke up at seven, only to see her brother standing by the window looking out onto the city. "What took you so long?" he asked turning around, only to shock Mirielle because he was dressed and ready to go.
"Just let me take a shower," she looked up groggily. Climbing out of the bed at a snail's pace she made her way to the bathroom. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. Slashing some cool water on her face she looked into the mirror, "We all wear masks," rang through her head.
She quickly got into the shower and relaxed. After a short shower she got dressed and went into the room, "Okay John, today we're going to Uncle Leroux for some information. Got it?"
"As long as I can drive we can go anywhere you want," he smirked. "Besides I have the keys this time," he held them up and jingled them slightly. Mirielle rolled her eyes and they left the room.
"14 Rouier Avenue," repeated John as they got closer to the house. They peered out both sides and then John made a sharp turn and parked. He turned to Mirielle and said, "I had to do the sharp turn!" She just laughed and they got out of the car.
Mirielle took the lead and knocked on the door. An aged man answered the door. He smiled warmly and said, "Why, if it isn't the Tic and Tac?" he smiled. "Your mother called me last night to tell me you were coming."
"H,i Uncle Leroux," John managed to smile, no matter how uncomfortable he was with meeting this man that he hadn't ever talked to, but he trusted his mother.
"Why, if it isn't little John," he smiled, "Come in, come in you two." The twins followed him into the small house and he sat them down in the sitting room. "Would you like anything?"
"No thank you," smiled John, well as pleasantly as he could.
"No thanks, Uncle Etienne. However, we would like some information." said Mirielle leaning forward towards her aging uncle.
"What do you need?" he asked sitting down in a large red, high-backed chair.
"I need to know how Aidan, Michael, and Christine are related to Erika Noir. I also need to know who her husband is," said Mirielle straight and to the point.
"Well, I can tell you that the Opera's library would have the information you're looking for. Also, in Paris, there's a graveyard with the Noir Crypt. You may want to see that for yourselves as well," Leroux said smiling at the two of them.
"And, who exactly is Dante?" interjected John. "We know he is out to get Christine, we know that he's not exactly the cleanest tissue in the pail, and we know for some odd reason he hates almost everyone on the stage crew."
"He's the son of Perdita Umberto and Ruelle, Count de Chagny. Your parents actually investigated a few cases with Ruelle as a main player. Ask your mother about when she broke her arm. She'll love to tell you that story," he chuckled, "but you have to watch out for him. He's as crazy as his father was. Watch out for him, if you don't you'll regret it," Etienne explained.
"Thanks for the advice," Mirielle said. "It's great that you helped us."
"It wasn't any trouble," he smiled, "Last time I saw you two was when you were in diapers. But Mirielle, why don't you come to Paris to work?" he joked. "They have plenty of openings as a French Officer."
Mirielle laughed at her uncle's remark and then stopped. 'It's not a bad idea,' she thought to herself. 'I could work in France and make a name for myself, instead of being known as the daughter of the Great Detective, I could be The Great Detective.'
"Well Uncle Etienne," said John getting up, "We have to be going. We will definitely keep in contact with you about what is going on. Come on Mir, I think we should head to that graveyard."
"Good idea," she said getting up. She walked over to her uncle and gave him a hug, "I'll inform you of any developments," she smiled, "We'll let ourselves out."
"Au revoir Tic and Tac," Leroux said as they left. "Such smart kids," he said as the door shut behind them.
Erika walked over to the video phone. James was out on business and her children were out running errands. Quietly, she punched up a number and waited. Watson's face appeared on the screen. His face was positively jubilant at the sight of Erika.
"Madame Noir, What a pleasure to see you again." Watson exclaimed.
"Bonjour, Doctuer. Is Beth home?" Erika asked.
"Yes she is. I will get her right now."
Erika waited a few moments. Finally Beth's face appeared on the screen. The two friends smiled at each other brightly.
"Erika, what a surprise! I just talked with Mirielle last night about your meeting." Beth informed her.
"She is a pleasant young lady. I have a feeling I frustrated the hell out of her." Erika grinned, "She didn't like how I sidestepped her questions."
"She won't. I heard The Phantom made his presence known." Beth returned Erika's grin, "Something about masks."
"Oui, I believe I gave her advice about that. She is definitely is your daughter. You should check on your son though. He wasn't feeling good last night." Erika stated concerned.
"Really? I wonder why? John is normally the healthier of the two." Beth pondered before turning to her friend, "Can I ask you question?"
"If it is about my husband, I know nothing."
"Rats!" Beth joked lightly causing the two of them to laugh, "But seriously, Will you be willing to watch over them for me?"
"Of course considering, Michael has a mild crush on your daughter."
"Really? Anything we can do to encourage... I mean... discourage this?"
"Mon ami, it is out of our hands now. Let them work it out if she likes him back."
Beth smiled, "Our husbands are going to kill us if they hook up, are they?"
Erika nodded as she saw James return to the hide out, "Oui. I have to go."
"Okay I'll talk to later."
"Au revoir." Erika smiled as she cut the connection just as James walked in. His arms full of roses. Erika smiled as she walked to him. She just hoped that Beth's children are as understanding as their parents.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* John climbed in the driver's seat and turned the key. He plugged in the name of the crypt into the positioning system and put the car on auto pilot. "Thank God Mum let us use the good cruiser," he smirked lightly holding the steering wheel.
"Yes," said Mirielle distractedly, "I wonder what we're going to find in the crypt," she thought out loud.
"I don't know and we won't know until we get there," John said as they continued to drive along. Mirielle looked out the window and over Paris, a sigh escaped her lips and John raised an eyebrow towards her, but said nothing.
They arrived at the cemetery and climbed out of the car. The dreary day and the somber setting made them both simultaneously shiver. They chuckled nervously and walked into the cemetery. There were tombstones over 150 years old in there. Mirielle walked by each one reading the name until they found the mausoleum for the Noir family. John pushed the door open and went into the crypt.
They read each name; "Erik, Christine, Christian, Erik," said John as he traced the letters with his fingers. Then he saw the next name, "Erika and James?" he said out loud. Mirielle rushed over and he said, "James? Who is James? That's an odd variant in names."
"It's probably her husband," said Mirielle. Then, she heard the door creak, "Come, quickly," she said pulling him behind the stairs. They heard footsteps above them, and saw two people coming down. Mirielle and John held their breaths and waited.
They peeked out to see Christine and Michael walking by. Neither said a thing as they walked one of the wall plaques. Christine carried an armful of beautiful flowers while Michael held a tattered violin case. It was one of the newest plague, yet it too had aged with time. Mirielle could hardly read it from her spot.
Christine stepped forward and placed the flowers on the floor in front of it. Michael stood back as he watched his sister. Christine kneeled down on the dirty floor and bowed her head in prayer. Michael had closed his eyes.
"Grandpapa, Please watch over us in our time of need," Christine whispered softly, "The devil is in the Opera House and we can't cast him out. I'm afraid that Mama is in great danger. So great that not even Papa can protect her."
Michael spoke up as he placed a hand on his sister's shoulder, "Please not only protect us but anyone else who is a target of this madman. We can't be everywhere. And make our little angel here sing beautifully at the gala in two day's time. Mama is so proud of her and is sure that you will be too."
What happened next touched all who was listening. Later on Mirielle would swear that she could hear the angels crying at such a beautiful sound while John will just smile as he remembered the scene.
Christine stood up as Michael opened the case. He pulled out the most beautifully made violin that either sibling had ever seen. John recognized it as a Stradivarius. Michael positioned himself to play. As his bow played across the strings, a beautiful sound filled the Crypt.
Mirielle closed her eyes as she let the music flooded her sense. A soft yet forceful voice joined in as the music played. It was like an angel come down from Heaven and was singing in this small graveyard for those who had passed on. When the song ended, Mirielle opened her eyes only to find herself crying. She turned to John who looked shell shocked and in a daze. A few moments passed until he finally came out of it. They exchanged a smile before peeking back out.
The crypt was empty except for the spring flowers. Mirielle stepped out and approached the plaque. The Plaque read: Erik Noir VI 2050-2100 A devoted friend, father, and teacher. You will be greatly missed.
"That is their grandfather." Mirielle whispered, "He was only fifty when he died."
"I wonder how he died." John wandered out loud, "Maybe we can understand what the hell is going on."
Mirielle shook her head, "No, we won't. We are only here to find the people who robbed Downing Street. I'm not going to run around chasing ghosts or intrude on someone's past. Let's go back to the hotel."
Mirielle and John had returned from the graveyard still shocked by what they saw and heard. John rode back in complete silence, his eyes still wide with shock. Mirielle sniffled and wiped her nose as they rode along. When they got back to the hotel Mirielle decided to go to the marketplace to browse around while John wanted to stay in the room.
She rode down the elevator; her red face was going back to its normal color. She reached the lobby and walked through the streets to the market. Her French was good enough so she could talk to anyone she needed to. Upon reaching the market she browsed around.
There were multiple useless things on the tables, as well as things that could prove most helpful. She spotted a book lying face down on the table. It was a rose red diary with nothing written in it. On the inside was a pressed rose bookmark. She checked the price, "five credits," she murmured to herself. Digging in her pocket she grabbed the credits and gave it to the clerk. "Thanks," she smiled taking the bag.
She turned around and found herself looking into those green eyes. "Pardon," she blushed nervously. "I didn't mean to block your way."
"It is fine," he smiled, "You weren't blocking my view at all."
He tensed a little bit as her creamy skin turned pink, her eyes sparkling like gems. Mirielle remembered the beautiful song he played on that violin and she almost began to tear again, but held it back.
"How are you?" she asked. 'Zed, I'm stupid,' she thought, 'the only thing I can come up with is, 'How are you?' Gah, I'm a moron.'
"Better," he smirked. "What's in the bag?" he pointed to it, "I don't mean to be rude, but I just like to know things."
"It's a book," she replied. "I liked the way it looked so I bought it, I don't know what I'll do with it, that girl Jessamine might want it though," she stuttered slightly and then regained confidence, "Besides I don't have anything to write about."
"You must have something," he smiled, "I'm sure that someone as intelligent as yourself could come up with something to write about."
"No," she laughed, "I was never good at writing."
"Who says Jessamine is," he smirked deviously. 'If Aidan heard me say that I would be dead,' he thought to himself. "Now you are coming to the gala in two days correct?"
"If the case isn't solved by then, which I hope it will be," she sighed, "I think I need a few days off work. But then again, if I take days off then I won't be chief inspector by thirty."
Michael frowned to himself. Her aspirations were definitely opposite of his. He sucked it up and smiled, "Well you have your dreams."
"Yes, yes I do," she smiled. 'What am I doing making small talk?' she asked herself with frustration, 'I should be investigating.' "Well I should be getting back to the hotel," her face turned solemn again; "I have work to do."
"Well, when you're done with that would you be willing to attend a concert tonight in Box five at the Opera House?" Michael blurted out on a sudden impulse. He felt his cheeks reddening and almost regretted asking the question.
Mirielle didn't know how to respond. She looked at him and thought hard, "I suppose I could. I mean John probably shouldn't know about it, but I think I can manage to get out." She really didn't know how to respond. She cursed herself for not having something better to say but just smiled like nothing was wrong. Gently twisting the bag on her finger she looked at him and then said, "Well I guess I'll see you tonight. Au revoir M'sieur."
"A tout a l'heure Mademoiselle," Michael hesitated for a moment and then kissed her on the cheek. His heart skipped a beat as she smiled back and shyly waved. Mirielle walked away as Michael just stood there, watching her go. "Au revoir," he breathed quietly waving slowly, his eyes unblinking. Several passersby looked at him strangely before he shook his head and sprinted towards the Opera House, a smile plastered on his face.
Michael fussed over his appearance in the mirror in his room. He decided to wear some vintage clothing that belonged to his famous ancestor. Surprisingly, they fit him perfectly. A smile touched Michael's lips as he stared at his reflection. The green vest and tie suited his appearance perfectly. It was a dark enough green to highlight his eyes. His ancestor had excellent taste in clothing. Not for the first time in his life, Michael wandered if maybe he should be the one training to be the Phantom.
The night was set. Michael felt little guilt about taking Mirielle to the Opera. His father was going to watch from the back stage area while Aidan worked the stage crew to help keep an eye on Dante and flirt with Jessamine. Christine and Mama were performing tonight. So Michael was on his own, but he won't be that way for long. He was looking forward to unraveling the mystery of Mirielle Holmes, the woman who fascinated him.
Michael glanced at his watch. He had better hurry or Mirielle would be waiting for him. Michael snatched up a bouquet of lilies. Absently he admired the rainbow of colors. They reminded him of Mirielle, beautiful, lively, yet tough. So he bought them for her. Humming a tune, Michael shrugged on his jacket and walked out of his room with a bounce in his step.
Mirielle walked into the room and threw the diary onto the counter by the mirror. It almost seemed as though she was floating around the room as she pulled things out of drawers and slammed them shut with no regard for the furniture.
John couldn't help but be curious at his sister's chipper mood and raised an eyebrow, "What are you so happy about?" Striking his father's signature position in the chair he starred her down and tried to deduce why she was so happy. He looked to the bag, "What kind of book did you get Mir?"
"It was a spur of the moment decision," she shrugged, "It's a diary although I don't have any use for it. I think I'll give it to that Jessamine girl, you know, the writer," she said throwing a pair high hells out of her bag. John looked at her questioningly, "What?" she asked, "Just because you didn't know I had high heels doesn't mean I didn't have them."
John shrugged and then asked a more important question, "Where, exactly, are you going? Mum and Dad are supposed to call back and what am I going to tell them when they find out that your running rampant all over Paris?"
Mirielle rolled her eyes and went through her suitcase. She pulled out a lilac dress and tossed it onto the bed. She held it up in front of her and looked in the mirror; the color matched her eyes perfectly.
Nodding she placed it down and walked to the bathroom, "John, go get something to eat and I promise I won't be late."
"I didn't ask when you would be back, I asked where you were going!" he said with a hint of anger. "It is getting rather suspicious that you won't tell me you know," he said knocking on the bathroom door.
Instead of an answer all he heard was the shower turning on, "Mir!"
It was too late. With a sigh he went out into the hall and contemplated where to get some food. 'Like Dad said,' he thought, 'there's a bistro on every corner.'
Mirielle hurried out of the shower and slipped on her clothes. She looked in the mirror and smiled. Her dress sparkled mildly while her eyes glittered in the light. Her feet were going to hurt by the end of the performance but that could be worked around as there was sitting involved during an Opera. She smoothed out the front and grabbed a brush. Quickly going over her hair once, she looked at the time.
"Zed, I'm going to be late." She grabbed her purse and ran out of the hotel room. She fidgeted uneasily in the elevator as she waited for it to go down. 'Just my luck, it stops on every solitary floor,' she thought as the glass elevator edged its way down.
Michael waited on the first landing of the stairs. Nervously, he looked over the crowd for Mirielle. Why was he so nervous? It wasn't like he never took a lady out before. Granted, he hadn't taken out someone like Mirielle, but still.
"You seem troubled, my friend." Akeem observed as he stood next to Michael.
"With good reason." Michael confided, "If my brother ever find out about what I'm about to do, he'll tear me apart and scatter the pieces all over the world."
"The female detective?" Akeem guessed, when Michael nodded, he continued, "She is very beautiful. I can understand."
"I'm glad someone does." Michael sighed, "I've fallen for her, Akeem, and nothing can become of it."
"Why?"
"Because I'm the one she is hunting. I'm a criminal. If she found out, it would shatter her. Yet I can't stop myself for seeing her."
Akeem wasn't sure what to say, except, "You have more options in front of you than you think. I have a feeling you two will work it out."
"How? Father wants me and Aidan to take over for him soon." Michael sighed, "And Christine is in training to be the Phantom."
"Christine wants to be a singer first. With the mask, there can be nothing ahead of it. Especially with a de Chagny running around." Akeem smiled reassuring to his best friend, "Now I see a beautiful woman waiting for a ghost to sweep her away."
Michael's head snapped up as she spotted Mirielle. Saying a quick good bye, he hurried towards her. Akeem smiled as his friend tried to act all mysterious yet charming. Maybe some day Michael will see his true path. Akeem waited as the crowd in the lobby began to go to their seats.
Mirielle zipped over to the theatre and saw Michael standing in front. He had on an old fashioned suit with lilies in his hand. She flicked some hair behind her ear and then walked up to him, "Bonne soire," she smiled.
"Bonne soire Mademoiselle," he kissed her on the cheek and handed her the flowers. She took them in her hands and delicately smelled them. Her sparkling eyes were enough thanks for Michael and he put out his arm, "We should get to our seats."
Smiling, Mirielle accepted it and together they walked into the theater. Michael smiled as they passed Akeem. Mirielle smiled when Akeem gave them a small smile and bow. The way to Box Five was walked in silence for neither knew what the say. As they approached the box, Michael froze mid-step.
Mirielle craned her neck to see what had bothered Michael. She watched as a well dressed man with grey hair walk into the box. He looked very dignified as he moved inside. Mirielle heard Michael muttered the word 'Merde' before pulling her into an alcove.
"What is he doing here? 'Michael muttered, "He is supposed to be back stage with Mama."
"Michael, who is he?" Mirielle asked suspiciously.
Michael looked at her knowing he had to lie and hated himself for it. Then an idea hit him. Heaving a heavy sigh, Michael tried to explain, "That is my father. Lately, he has been pushing Aidan and me to marry. If he sees you with me, he'll get the wrong idea."
"I think I understand." Mirielle nodded.
"I doubt we can get a seat anywhere else tonight, since this is the closing night." Michael grumbled, "If we sit in there, you have to do me one favor."
"Yes?"
"Don't tell him what you do for a living or who you are." Michael pleaded, "He is distrustful of police yet he is a big fan of Sherlock Holmes and might think you are related to him."
"I can do that." Mirielle promised with a smile, "I won't say a word. I don't want to be pestered with questions about my father right now."
Michael feigned surprise, "You really are related to him. Then we will have to be really careful."
Mirielle laughed as she led Michael back into the hallway. Smiling they walked into Box Five. James looked up from his program and smiled at his son. He quirked an eyebrow at the beautiful girl who walked in on Michael's arm. Michael noticed the hint and motioned to Mirielle.
"Papa, I want you to meet Mirielle Watson. She is a local art student." Michael improvised quickly.
James relaxed as he took Mirielle's hand and kissed it, "A pleasure, mademoiselle."
"Merci, the same, Monsieur Noir." Mirielle smiled hoping to be corrected.
"Your welcome." James smiled before turning to Michael, "I didn't know you had a date."
"Neither did I until this afternoon. How is Mama? Shouldn't you be with her?" Michael questioned.
James chuckled, "She is fine. I was shooed away by your Uncle Nadir. He promised to watch over her for me. I came here to watch her perform from the audience's point of view."
"I didn't know family members could watch the performances from backstage." Mirielle remarked.
"Only in special cases." James shrugged, "Now what exactly do you study in the art field?"
"Art History." Mirielle answered, thankful she took some classes on the subject in college, "I hope to go to Italy soon to study the Masters."
Michael smiled, "I hear that the Churches in Rome are real master pieces."
"They are." Mirielle smiled, "Especially those built and decorated during the Renaissance Period. Several art techniques were developed and fine tuned during that time."
Michael gave her a bright smile while James nodded to her knowledge. Mirielle felt proud of her acting skills. Music floated up to the box. James motioned that they take their seats. Michael walked Mirielle to front of the box. Mirielle primly sat on the end next to Michael while James sat on the other side of Michael. She smiled softly as she recognized the music from the opera, Carmen.
During the performance, Mirielle was utterly captivated by the magic of Erika Noir. Never had she seen such a talented artist on the stage. It was if she was Carmen, not someone trying to become Carmen. Mirielle had seen the opera several times in her youth with her parents.
Once when Signora Umberto played the part, Mirielle remembered coming away from the opera unimpressed. However, here was a real singer who captivated and drew in the audience making them feel her character's emotions.
Mirielle glanced over at her companions to see if she was the only one affected by the music. Michael had a small smile on his face as he kept time with his foot. His father was absorbed by the beauty of his wife's music. Mirielle was surprise to see his eyes stare at Erika with pure love and utter devotion. She looked away since she felt like intruding.
Mirielle jumped when she felt something grip her hand. Looking at her hand, she noticed that Michael's covered hers. Mirielle looked up to gaze at Michael's face as he gazed at her. A blush crept across her cheeks and Mirielle turned her head back towards the stage.
John, who was by now fully satisfied, walked back to the hotel. His stomach full and the wheels of his mind turning, he was a happy person. He took the stairs instead of the elevator and walked up to the floor.
Quickly sitting down by the screen he punched in the numbers to his parent's house and let it ring. "Hello," answered his father.
"Hello Dad," John sighed. "We are still at a loss for information. Nothing seems to be turning up. This phantom, whoever or whatever, it is, is pretty good at covering over tracks that's for sure."
"I know. Specters are clever things, speaking of clever where is your sister?" asked Sherlock once he realized she was no where in the picture.
"What about Mirielle?" Beth interjected. She walked up to the screen and sat down beside her husband. "Where is she John?" she asked in a concerned voice.
"I was just about to say that she got dressed up and went out. I don't know where but she wore that lilac dress and high heels. She was acting strangely happy and bought a diary but now wants to give it away. I tried to find out where she was going, but she sent me out for food and wouldn't answer any questions. I am telling you Mum, it was harder than interrogating suspects," he sighed.
"Don't worry," smiled Beth, "I'm sure she can take care of herself."
Sherlock looked at his wife in confusion. For the first time in twenty years he had absolutely no clue as to what she was talking about. "What?" he asked, "Moments ago you were worried and now you have no objections."
"Trust me Sherlock, I know what I'm talking about," she turned to her husband. A slightly devious smile formed on her lips as she looked at him. He raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head slightly. "Trust me," she sighed again.
"I trust you," he said. John grimaced at his parents and cleared his throat to break their eye contact with each other. "I'm sorry John," chuckled Sherlock, "but listen to your mother. Although I have no idea what she is talking about I am sure that she wouldn't let your sister wander about Paris without a worry unless she knew exactly what she's talking about," Sherlock stressed the last half of the sentence. He didn't want anything to happen to his little girl. He may not have always valued little children but when it was his own he was as concerned as the next father.
"I'm sure Mum wouldn't do that," John agreed. "However, it's getting late and I have to wait for Mirielle to get back so I'm going to hang up. Besides, I should go over that tape of the interview. Bye Mum. Bye Dad," John disconnected and walked over to the digital recorder. He pressed play and went to sit on the chair. Closing his eyes he listened intently trying to find secret meanings or things of that sort in the conversation.
Mirielle stood with Michael as they gave a stand ovation to the company for an excellent performance. A smile spread across her face as the lights came up. Michael smiled as he noticed the look of pure enjoyment on her face. Michael turned to move only to find his father gone.
"Erika really is an excellent singer." Mirielle sighed, "I only wish I could hear her all the time."
"Maybe someday you can." Michael teased.
Mirielle laughed lightly. Michael felt his legs almost give out on him. He gripped the seat to steady himself. God, she laughed so beautifully. Where was he going to find the strength to walk away from her? Forcing a smile, he tried to bring his body under control.
Mirielle glanced at her wrist com, "Oh my god, it's 10:30. I have to hurry back before my brother worries too much."
Michael nodded as he took her hand, "We can't have that."
"He'll probably think the thieves I'm after have kidnapped me." Mirielle laughed.
"Definitely can't have that." Michael joked as well but was thinking how tempting of an idea it was just to be with her.
They stood there in silence. Neither wanted to move. Michael had to fight the urge to steal a kiss from her. Both began to blush as their thoughts began to revolve if they should kiss.
"I should get going." Mirielle stated softly.
Michael tucked her hand into the nook of his arm and smiled, "Of course, mon cherie. I will walk you to your car."
Mirielle smelled the lilies one last time before slowly opening the door. It was eleven o'clock and she was sure her brother was asleep. The door creaked and she stepped in. Her brother looked asleep on the chair. She smiled warmly at the image and placed the flowers on the dresser.
John's eyes snapped open and he was out of his trance. Glancing at the clock he noted the time and looked at her suspiciously, "Mirielle, where have you been? Where did you get those flowers? Mum and Dad called and they were worried about you, what are you going to tell them?" he pressed the questions on her as he jumped from the chair.
"I was walking back and I saw the flowers, I thought they were pretty. Is that a crime?" she asked, although blatantly lying.
"I think you're lying, no, I know you're lying," his lip curling as he ripped a tag off of the bouquet of flowers and started to read it out loud, "To Mirielle, a flower among thorns. From, Michael." He scowled at his sister. "Now we're lying are we? Oh, well I would like to ask, like one of these thorns he claims you're surrounded by, is he one? Is he a deadly prick?"
Mirielle gasped at her brother's protective behavior. Her face burned red at his caustic remarks. She smartly slapped him across the face and stormed into the bathroom
"John Henry Holmes!" she yelled, "how dare you accuse people of being such things!"
John rubbed his cheek and climbed onto his bed. "Women," he sighed lifting his hand from her cheek. He had a red hand print on his cheek and he winced when he saw his reflection. Making his way over to the door he said, "Mir, c'mon Mir. Please don't be mad."
Mirielle walked out of the bathroom in a tee shirt and shorts and climbed into her bed. She didn't even acknowledge her brother at all as she fell asleep. John waited until his cheek stopped stinging and the laid down. "Holy zed mum is going to kill me if she hears about this," he sighed as he drifted off to sleep.
A teddy bear dressed as the Phantom is sitting in some horrible torture device with several sharp pointy swords are aimed at it. Tucked in it's arms is a sign that says: Help please!
Wandering Children
Chapter 5- Beautiful Music.
Mirielle walked into the hotel room quietly. She smiled warmly as her brother slept, 'So much for having him listen to the tape now,' she thought. Sitting down in front of the screen she dialed home. Her mother picked up.
"Hi Mum," she smiled a little distractedly.
"Hello Mir," Beth replied, "What's wrong? You look upset."
"I just wanted to tell you that John and I haven't found anything yet. Well aside from the fact that we shouldn't touch the prop table and there is some freaky Middle-Eastern guy named Nadir stalking the place. We're still looking for some things and my meeting with Madame Noir didn't help either. She wasted the whole interview trying to make me deduce who her husband was, and as dad always says, 'never make assumptions without proper evidence.'"
"I know, I know." she smiled sympathetically, "You'll find something. I'm sure of it. Besides, inside Nadir is a big teddy bear" Beth then smirked and teasingly asked, "Did you meet the Phantom yet?"
Mirielle chuckled at the comment about Nadir and said, "First of all, that man could never be anything but scary and actually," Mirielle replied, her expression darkening, "I did tonight. He was intimidating that's for sure. He kept saying something about how we all wear our masks and gah, it was so confusing!"
"Well, I think I know what he meant," Beth said reassuringly, "Tell you what, go to 14 Rouier Avenue and talk to your Great Uncle Leroux. I'm sure he'll be able to help. Just remember Mirielle, do what you think is right. Don't let anything stand in your way."
"I will Mum, but I better get going. I want to go over the tape again," she smiled falsely.
"Bye Mir, I hope you look up your Uncle. He'll be glad to see you again, after all, last time he saw you, you couldn't talk," added Beth before they disconnected.
"Uncle Leroux," mused Mirielle, "well I suppose that's where I'm off to tomorrow."
Looking through her bag she pulled out a tee shirt and shorts. She walked into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and then changed into her pajamas. After reviewing the tape four times, she climbed between the sheets and immediately fell asleep the phantom's words ringing through her head.
The next morning Mirielle woke up at seven, only to see her brother standing by the window looking out onto the city. "What took you so long?" he asked turning around, only to shock Mirielle because he was dressed and ready to go.
"Just let me take a shower," she looked up groggily. Climbing out of the bed at a snail's pace she made her way to the bathroom. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. Slashing some cool water on her face she looked into the mirror, "We all wear masks," rang through her head.
She quickly got into the shower and relaxed. After a short shower she got dressed and went into the room, "Okay John, today we're going to Uncle Leroux for some information. Got it?"
"As long as I can drive we can go anywhere you want," he smirked. "Besides I have the keys this time," he held them up and jingled them slightly. Mirielle rolled her eyes and they left the room.
"14 Rouier Avenue," repeated John as they got closer to the house. They peered out both sides and then John made a sharp turn and parked. He turned to Mirielle and said, "I had to do the sharp turn!" She just laughed and they got out of the car.
Mirielle took the lead and knocked on the door. An aged man answered the door. He smiled warmly and said, "Why, if it isn't the Tic and Tac?" he smiled. "Your mother called me last night to tell me you were coming."
"H,i Uncle Leroux," John managed to smile, no matter how uncomfortable he was with meeting this man that he hadn't ever talked to, but he trusted his mother.
"Why, if it isn't little John," he smiled, "Come in, come in you two." The twins followed him into the small house and he sat them down in the sitting room. "Would you like anything?"
"No thank you," smiled John, well as pleasantly as he could.
"No thanks, Uncle Etienne. However, we would like some information." said Mirielle leaning forward towards her aging uncle.
"What do you need?" he asked sitting down in a large red, high-backed chair.
"I need to know how Aidan, Michael, and Christine are related to Erika Noir. I also need to know who her husband is," said Mirielle straight and to the point.
"Well, I can tell you that the Opera's library would have the information you're looking for. Also, in Paris, there's a graveyard with the Noir Crypt. You may want to see that for yourselves as well," Leroux said smiling at the two of them.
"And, who exactly is Dante?" interjected John. "We know he is out to get Christine, we know that he's not exactly the cleanest tissue in the pail, and we know for some odd reason he hates almost everyone on the stage crew."
"He's the son of Perdita Umberto and Ruelle, Count de Chagny. Your parents actually investigated a few cases with Ruelle as a main player. Ask your mother about when she broke her arm. She'll love to tell you that story," he chuckled, "but you have to watch out for him. He's as crazy as his father was. Watch out for him, if you don't you'll regret it," Etienne explained.
"Thanks for the advice," Mirielle said. "It's great that you helped us."
"It wasn't any trouble," he smiled, "Last time I saw you two was when you were in diapers. But Mirielle, why don't you come to Paris to work?" he joked. "They have plenty of openings as a French Officer."
Mirielle laughed at her uncle's remark and then stopped. 'It's not a bad idea,' she thought to herself. 'I could work in France and make a name for myself, instead of being known as the daughter of the Great Detective, I could be The Great Detective.'
"Well Uncle Etienne," said John getting up, "We have to be going. We will definitely keep in contact with you about what is going on. Come on Mir, I think we should head to that graveyard."
"Good idea," she said getting up. She walked over to her uncle and gave him a hug, "I'll inform you of any developments," she smiled, "We'll let ourselves out."
"Au revoir Tic and Tac," Leroux said as they left. "Such smart kids," he said as the door shut behind them.
Erika walked over to the video phone. James was out on business and her children were out running errands. Quietly, she punched up a number and waited. Watson's face appeared on the screen. His face was positively jubilant at the sight of Erika.
"Madame Noir, What a pleasure to see you again." Watson exclaimed.
"Bonjour, Doctuer. Is Beth home?" Erika asked.
"Yes she is. I will get her right now."
Erika waited a few moments. Finally Beth's face appeared on the screen. The two friends smiled at each other brightly.
"Erika, what a surprise! I just talked with Mirielle last night about your meeting." Beth informed her.
"She is a pleasant young lady. I have a feeling I frustrated the hell out of her." Erika grinned, "She didn't like how I sidestepped her questions."
"She won't. I heard The Phantom made his presence known." Beth returned Erika's grin, "Something about masks."
"Oui, I believe I gave her advice about that. She is definitely is your daughter. You should check on your son though. He wasn't feeling good last night." Erika stated concerned.
"Really? I wonder why? John is normally the healthier of the two." Beth pondered before turning to her friend, "Can I ask you question?"
"If it is about my husband, I know nothing."
"Rats!" Beth joked lightly causing the two of them to laugh, "But seriously, Will you be willing to watch over them for me?"
"Of course considering, Michael has a mild crush on your daughter."
"Really? Anything we can do to encourage... I mean... discourage this?"
"Mon ami, it is out of our hands now. Let them work it out if she likes him back."
Beth smiled, "Our husbands are going to kill us if they hook up, are they?"
Erika nodded as she saw James return to the hide out, "Oui. I have to go."
"Okay I'll talk to later."
"Au revoir." Erika smiled as she cut the connection just as James walked in. His arms full of roses. Erika smiled as she walked to him. She just hoped that Beth's children are as understanding as their parents.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* John climbed in the driver's seat and turned the key. He plugged in the name of the crypt into the positioning system and put the car on auto pilot. "Thank God Mum let us use the good cruiser," he smirked lightly holding the steering wheel.
"Yes," said Mirielle distractedly, "I wonder what we're going to find in the crypt," she thought out loud.
"I don't know and we won't know until we get there," John said as they continued to drive along. Mirielle looked out the window and over Paris, a sigh escaped her lips and John raised an eyebrow towards her, but said nothing.
They arrived at the cemetery and climbed out of the car. The dreary day and the somber setting made them both simultaneously shiver. They chuckled nervously and walked into the cemetery. There were tombstones over 150 years old in there. Mirielle walked by each one reading the name until they found the mausoleum for the Noir family. John pushed the door open and went into the crypt.
They read each name; "Erik, Christine, Christian, Erik," said John as he traced the letters with his fingers. Then he saw the next name, "Erika and James?" he said out loud. Mirielle rushed over and he said, "James? Who is James? That's an odd variant in names."
"It's probably her husband," said Mirielle. Then, she heard the door creak, "Come, quickly," she said pulling him behind the stairs. They heard footsteps above them, and saw two people coming down. Mirielle and John held their breaths and waited.
They peeked out to see Christine and Michael walking by. Neither said a thing as they walked one of the wall plaques. Christine carried an armful of beautiful flowers while Michael held a tattered violin case. It was one of the newest plague, yet it too had aged with time. Mirielle could hardly read it from her spot.
Christine stepped forward and placed the flowers on the floor in front of it. Michael stood back as he watched his sister. Christine kneeled down on the dirty floor and bowed her head in prayer. Michael had closed his eyes.
"Grandpapa, Please watch over us in our time of need," Christine whispered softly, "The devil is in the Opera House and we can't cast him out. I'm afraid that Mama is in great danger. So great that not even Papa can protect her."
Michael spoke up as he placed a hand on his sister's shoulder, "Please not only protect us but anyone else who is a target of this madman. We can't be everywhere. And make our little angel here sing beautifully at the gala in two day's time. Mama is so proud of her and is sure that you will be too."
What happened next touched all who was listening. Later on Mirielle would swear that she could hear the angels crying at such a beautiful sound while John will just smile as he remembered the scene.
Christine stood up as Michael opened the case. He pulled out the most beautifully made violin that either sibling had ever seen. John recognized it as a Stradivarius. Michael positioned himself to play. As his bow played across the strings, a beautiful sound filled the Crypt.
Mirielle closed her eyes as she let the music flooded her sense. A soft yet forceful voice joined in as the music played. It was like an angel come down from Heaven and was singing in this small graveyard for those who had passed on. When the song ended, Mirielle opened her eyes only to find herself crying. She turned to John who looked shell shocked and in a daze. A few moments passed until he finally came out of it. They exchanged a smile before peeking back out.
The crypt was empty except for the spring flowers. Mirielle stepped out and approached the plaque. The Plaque read: Erik Noir VI 2050-2100 A devoted friend, father, and teacher. You will be greatly missed.
"That is their grandfather." Mirielle whispered, "He was only fifty when he died."
"I wonder how he died." John wandered out loud, "Maybe we can understand what the hell is going on."
Mirielle shook her head, "No, we won't. We are only here to find the people who robbed Downing Street. I'm not going to run around chasing ghosts or intrude on someone's past. Let's go back to the hotel."
Mirielle and John had returned from the graveyard still shocked by what they saw and heard. John rode back in complete silence, his eyes still wide with shock. Mirielle sniffled and wiped her nose as they rode along. When they got back to the hotel Mirielle decided to go to the marketplace to browse around while John wanted to stay in the room.
She rode down the elevator; her red face was going back to its normal color. She reached the lobby and walked through the streets to the market. Her French was good enough so she could talk to anyone she needed to. Upon reaching the market she browsed around.
There were multiple useless things on the tables, as well as things that could prove most helpful. She spotted a book lying face down on the table. It was a rose red diary with nothing written in it. On the inside was a pressed rose bookmark. She checked the price, "five credits," she murmured to herself. Digging in her pocket she grabbed the credits and gave it to the clerk. "Thanks," she smiled taking the bag.
She turned around and found herself looking into those green eyes. "Pardon," she blushed nervously. "I didn't mean to block your way."
"It is fine," he smiled, "You weren't blocking my view at all."
He tensed a little bit as her creamy skin turned pink, her eyes sparkling like gems. Mirielle remembered the beautiful song he played on that violin and she almost began to tear again, but held it back.
"How are you?" she asked. 'Zed, I'm stupid,' she thought, 'the only thing I can come up with is, 'How are you?' Gah, I'm a moron.'
"Better," he smirked. "What's in the bag?" he pointed to it, "I don't mean to be rude, but I just like to know things."
"It's a book," she replied. "I liked the way it looked so I bought it, I don't know what I'll do with it, that girl Jessamine might want it though," she stuttered slightly and then regained confidence, "Besides I don't have anything to write about."
"You must have something," he smiled, "I'm sure that someone as intelligent as yourself could come up with something to write about."
"No," she laughed, "I was never good at writing."
"Who says Jessamine is," he smirked deviously. 'If Aidan heard me say that I would be dead,' he thought to himself. "Now you are coming to the gala in two days correct?"
"If the case isn't solved by then, which I hope it will be," she sighed, "I think I need a few days off work. But then again, if I take days off then I won't be chief inspector by thirty."
Michael frowned to himself. Her aspirations were definitely opposite of his. He sucked it up and smiled, "Well you have your dreams."
"Yes, yes I do," she smiled. 'What am I doing making small talk?' she asked herself with frustration, 'I should be investigating.' "Well I should be getting back to the hotel," her face turned solemn again; "I have work to do."
"Well, when you're done with that would you be willing to attend a concert tonight in Box five at the Opera House?" Michael blurted out on a sudden impulse. He felt his cheeks reddening and almost regretted asking the question.
Mirielle didn't know how to respond. She looked at him and thought hard, "I suppose I could. I mean John probably shouldn't know about it, but I think I can manage to get out." She really didn't know how to respond. She cursed herself for not having something better to say but just smiled like nothing was wrong. Gently twisting the bag on her finger she looked at him and then said, "Well I guess I'll see you tonight. Au revoir M'sieur."
"A tout a l'heure Mademoiselle," Michael hesitated for a moment and then kissed her on the cheek. His heart skipped a beat as she smiled back and shyly waved. Mirielle walked away as Michael just stood there, watching her go. "Au revoir," he breathed quietly waving slowly, his eyes unblinking. Several passersby looked at him strangely before he shook his head and sprinted towards the Opera House, a smile plastered on his face.
Michael fussed over his appearance in the mirror in his room. He decided to wear some vintage clothing that belonged to his famous ancestor. Surprisingly, they fit him perfectly. A smile touched Michael's lips as he stared at his reflection. The green vest and tie suited his appearance perfectly. It was a dark enough green to highlight his eyes. His ancestor had excellent taste in clothing. Not for the first time in his life, Michael wandered if maybe he should be the one training to be the Phantom.
The night was set. Michael felt little guilt about taking Mirielle to the Opera. His father was going to watch from the back stage area while Aidan worked the stage crew to help keep an eye on Dante and flirt with Jessamine. Christine and Mama were performing tonight. So Michael was on his own, but he won't be that way for long. He was looking forward to unraveling the mystery of Mirielle Holmes, the woman who fascinated him.
Michael glanced at his watch. He had better hurry or Mirielle would be waiting for him. Michael snatched up a bouquet of lilies. Absently he admired the rainbow of colors. They reminded him of Mirielle, beautiful, lively, yet tough. So he bought them for her. Humming a tune, Michael shrugged on his jacket and walked out of his room with a bounce in his step.
Mirielle walked into the room and threw the diary onto the counter by the mirror. It almost seemed as though she was floating around the room as she pulled things out of drawers and slammed them shut with no regard for the furniture.
John couldn't help but be curious at his sister's chipper mood and raised an eyebrow, "What are you so happy about?" Striking his father's signature position in the chair he starred her down and tried to deduce why she was so happy. He looked to the bag, "What kind of book did you get Mir?"
"It was a spur of the moment decision," she shrugged, "It's a diary although I don't have any use for it. I think I'll give it to that Jessamine girl, you know, the writer," she said throwing a pair high hells out of her bag. John looked at her questioningly, "What?" she asked, "Just because you didn't know I had high heels doesn't mean I didn't have them."
John shrugged and then asked a more important question, "Where, exactly, are you going? Mum and Dad are supposed to call back and what am I going to tell them when they find out that your running rampant all over Paris?"
Mirielle rolled her eyes and went through her suitcase. She pulled out a lilac dress and tossed it onto the bed. She held it up in front of her and looked in the mirror; the color matched her eyes perfectly.
Nodding she placed it down and walked to the bathroom, "John, go get something to eat and I promise I won't be late."
"I didn't ask when you would be back, I asked where you were going!" he said with a hint of anger. "It is getting rather suspicious that you won't tell me you know," he said knocking on the bathroom door.
Instead of an answer all he heard was the shower turning on, "Mir!"
It was too late. With a sigh he went out into the hall and contemplated where to get some food. 'Like Dad said,' he thought, 'there's a bistro on every corner.'
Mirielle hurried out of the shower and slipped on her clothes. She looked in the mirror and smiled. Her dress sparkled mildly while her eyes glittered in the light. Her feet were going to hurt by the end of the performance but that could be worked around as there was sitting involved during an Opera. She smoothed out the front and grabbed a brush. Quickly going over her hair once, she looked at the time.
"Zed, I'm going to be late." She grabbed her purse and ran out of the hotel room. She fidgeted uneasily in the elevator as she waited for it to go down. 'Just my luck, it stops on every solitary floor,' she thought as the glass elevator edged its way down.
Michael waited on the first landing of the stairs. Nervously, he looked over the crowd for Mirielle. Why was he so nervous? It wasn't like he never took a lady out before. Granted, he hadn't taken out someone like Mirielle, but still.
"You seem troubled, my friend." Akeem observed as he stood next to Michael.
"With good reason." Michael confided, "If my brother ever find out about what I'm about to do, he'll tear me apart and scatter the pieces all over the world."
"The female detective?" Akeem guessed, when Michael nodded, he continued, "She is very beautiful. I can understand."
"I'm glad someone does." Michael sighed, "I've fallen for her, Akeem, and nothing can become of it."
"Why?"
"Because I'm the one she is hunting. I'm a criminal. If she found out, it would shatter her. Yet I can't stop myself for seeing her."
Akeem wasn't sure what to say, except, "You have more options in front of you than you think. I have a feeling you two will work it out."
"How? Father wants me and Aidan to take over for him soon." Michael sighed, "And Christine is in training to be the Phantom."
"Christine wants to be a singer first. With the mask, there can be nothing ahead of it. Especially with a de Chagny running around." Akeem smiled reassuring to his best friend, "Now I see a beautiful woman waiting for a ghost to sweep her away."
Michael's head snapped up as she spotted Mirielle. Saying a quick good bye, he hurried towards her. Akeem smiled as his friend tried to act all mysterious yet charming. Maybe some day Michael will see his true path. Akeem waited as the crowd in the lobby began to go to their seats.
Mirielle zipped over to the theatre and saw Michael standing in front. He had on an old fashioned suit with lilies in his hand. She flicked some hair behind her ear and then walked up to him, "Bonne soire," she smiled.
"Bonne soire Mademoiselle," he kissed her on the cheek and handed her the flowers. She took them in her hands and delicately smelled them. Her sparkling eyes were enough thanks for Michael and he put out his arm, "We should get to our seats."
Smiling, Mirielle accepted it and together they walked into the theater. Michael smiled as they passed Akeem. Mirielle smiled when Akeem gave them a small smile and bow. The way to Box Five was walked in silence for neither knew what the say. As they approached the box, Michael froze mid-step.
Mirielle craned her neck to see what had bothered Michael. She watched as a well dressed man with grey hair walk into the box. He looked very dignified as he moved inside. Mirielle heard Michael muttered the word 'Merde' before pulling her into an alcove.
"What is he doing here? 'Michael muttered, "He is supposed to be back stage with Mama."
"Michael, who is he?" Mirielle asked suspiciously.
Michael looked at her knowing he had to lie and hated himself for it. Then an idea hit him. Heaving a heavy sigh, Michael tried to explain, "That is my father. Lately, he has been pushing Aidan and me to marry. If he sees you with me, he'll get the wrong idea."
"I think I understand." Mirielle nodded.
"I doubt we can get a seat anywhere else tonight, since this is the closing night." Michael grumbled, "If we sit in there, you have to do me one favor."
"Yes?"
"Don't tell him what you do for a living or who you are." Michael pleaded, "He is distrustful of police yet he is a big fan of Sherlock Holmes and might think you are related to him."
"I can do that." Mirielle promised with a smile, "I won't say a word. I don't want to be pestered with questions about my father right now."
Michael feigned surprise, "You really are related to him. Then we will have to be really careful."
Mirielle laughed as she led Michael back into the hallway. Smiling they walked into Box Five. James looked up from his program and smiled at his son. He quirked an eyebrow at the beautiful girl who walked in on Michael's arm. Michael noticed the hint and motioned to Mirielle.
"Papa, I want you to meet Mirielle Watson. She is a local art student." Michael improvised quickly.
James relaxed as he took Mirielle's hand and kissed it, "A pleasure, mademoiselle."
"Merci, the same, Monsieur Noir." Mirielle smiled hoping to be corrected.
"Your welcome." James smiled before turning to Michael, "I didn't know you had a date."
"Neither did I until this afternoon. How is Mama? Shouldn't you be with her?" Michael questioned.
James chuckled, "She is fine. I was shooed away by your Uncle Nadir. He promised to watch over her for me. I came here to watch her perform from the audience's point of view."
"I didn't know family members could watch the performances from backstage." Mirielle remarked.
"Only in special cases." James shrugged, "Now what exactly do you study in the art field?"
"Art History." Mirielle answered, thankful she took some classes on the subject in college, "I hope to go to Italy soon to study the Masters."
Michael smiled, "I hear that the Churches in Rome are real master pieces."
"They are." Mirielle smiled, "Especially those built and decorated during the Renaissance Period. Several art techniques were developed and fine tuned during that time."
Michael gave her a bright smile while James nodded to her knowledge. Mirielle felt proud of her acting skills. Music floated up to the box. James motioned that they take their seats. Michael walked Mirielle to front of the box. Mirielle primly sat on the end next to Michael while James sat on the other side of Michael. She smiled softly as she recognized the music from the opera, Carmen.
During the performance, Mirielle was utterly captivated by the magic of Erika Noir. Never had she seen such a talented artist on the stage. It was if she was Carmen, not someone trying to become Carmen. Mirielle had seen the opera several times in her youth with her parents.
Once when Signora Umberto played the part, Mirielle remembered coming away from the opera unimpressed. However, here was a real singer who captivated and drew in the audience making them feel her character's emotions.
Mirielle glanced over at her companions to see if she was the only one affected by the music. Michael had a small smile on his face as he kept time with his foot. His father was absorbed by the beauty of his wife's music. Mirielle was surprise to see his eyes stare at Erika with pure love and utter devotion. She looked away since she felt like intruding.
Mirielle jumped when she felt something grip her hand. Looking at her hand, she noticed that Michael's covered hers. Mirielle looked up to gaze at Michael's face as he gazed at her. A blush crept across her cheeks and Mirielle turned her head back towards the stage.
John, who was by now fully satisfied, walked back to the hotel. His stomach full and the wheels of his mind turning, he was a happy person. He took the stairs instead of the elevator and walked up to the floor.
Quickly sitting down by the screen he punched in the numbers to his parent's house and let it ring. "Hello," answered his father.
"Hello Dad," John sighed. "We are still at a loss for information. Nothing seems to be turning up. This phantom, whoever or whatever, it is, is pretty good at covering over tracks that's for sure."
"I know. Specters are clever things, speaking of clever where is your sister?" asked Sherlock once he realized she was no where in the picture.
"What about Mirielle?" Beth interjected. She walked up to the screen and sat down beside her husband. "Where is she John?" she asked in a concerned voice.
"I was just about to say that she got dressed up and went out. I don't know where but she wore that lilac dress and high heels. She was acting strangely happy and bought a diary but now wants to give it away. I tried to find out where she was going, but she sent me out for food and wouldn't answer any questions. I am telling you Mum, it was harder than interrogating suspects," he sighed.
"Don't worry," smiled Beth, "I'm sure she can take care of herself."
Sherlock looked at his wife in confusion. For the first time in twenty years he had absolutely no clue as to what she was talking about. "What?" he asked, "Moments ago you were worried and now you have no objections."
"Trust me Sherlock, I know what I'm talking about," she turned to her husband. A slightly devious smile formed on her lips as she looked at him. He raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head slightly. "Trust me," she sighed again.
"I trust you," he said. John grimaced at his parents and cleared his throat to break their eye contact with each other. "I'm sorry John," chuckled Sherlock, "but listen to your mother. Although I have no idea what she is talking about I am sure that she wouldn't let your sister wander about Paris without a worry unless she knew exactly what she's talking about," Sherlock stressed the last half of the sentence. He didn't want anything to happen to his little girl. He may not have always valued little children but when it was his own he was as concerned as the next father.
"I'm sure Mum wouldn't do that," John agreed. "However, it's getting late and I have to wait for Mirielle to get back so I'm going to hang up. Besides, I should go over that tape of the interview. Bye Mum. Bye Dad," John disconnected and walked over to the digital recorder. He pressed play and went to sit on the chair. Closing his eyes he listened intently trying to find secret meanings or things of that sort in the conversation.
Mirielle stood with Michael as they gave a stand ovation to the company for an excellent performance. A smile spread across her face as the lights came up. Michael smiled as he noticed the look of pure enjoyment on her face. Michael turned to move only to find his father gone.
"Erika really is an excellent singer." Mirielle sighed, "I only wish I could hear her all the time."
"Maybe someday you can." Michael teased.
Mirielle laughed lightly. Michael felt his legs almost give out on him. He gripped the seat to steady himself. God, she laughed so beautifully. Where was he going to find the strength to walk away from her? Forcing a smile, he tried to bring his body under control.
Mirielle glanced at her wrist com, "Oh my god, it's 10:30. I have to hurry back before my brother worries too much."
Michael nodded as he took her hand, "We can't have that."
"He'll probably think the thieves I'm after have kidnapped me." Mirielle laughed.
"Definitely can't have that." Michael joked as well but was thinking how tempting of an idea it was just to be with her.
They stood there in silence. Neither wanted to move. Michael had to fight the urge to steal a kiss from her. Both began to blush as their thoughts began to revolve if they should kiss.
"I should get going." Mirielle stated softly.
Michael tucked her hand into the nook of his arm and smiled, "Of course, mon cherie. I will walk you to your car."
Mirielle smelled the lilies one last time before slowly opening the door. It was eleven o'clock and she was sure her brother was asleep. The door creaked and she stepped in. Her brother looked asleep on the chair. She smiled warmly at the image and placed the flowers on the dresser.
John's eyes snapped open and he was out of his trance. Glancing at the clock he noted the time and looked at her suspiciously, "Mirielle, where have you been? Where did you get those flowers? Mum and Dad called and they were worried about you, what are you going to tell them?" he pressed the questions on her as he jumped from the chair.
"I was walking back and I saw the flowers, I thought they were pretty. Is that a crime?" she asked, although blatantly lying.
"I think you're lying, no, I know you're lying," his lip curling as he ripped a tag off of the bouquet of flowers and started to read it out loud, "To Mirielle, a flower among thorns. From, Michael." He scowled at his sister. "Now we're lying are we? Oh, well I would like to ask, like one of these thorns he claims you're surrounded by, is he one? Is he a deadly prick?"
Mirielle gasped at her brother's protective behavior. Her face burned red at his caustic remarks. She smartly slapped him across the face and stormed into the bathroom
"John Henry Holmes!" she yelled, "how dare you accuse people of being such things!"
John rubbed his cheek and climbed onto his bed. "Women," he sighed lifting his hand from her cheek. He had a red hand print on his cheek and he winced when he saw his reflection. Making his way over to the door he said, "Mir, c'mon Mir. Please don't be mad."
Mirielle walked out of the bathroom in a tee shirt and shorts and climbed into her bed. She didn't even acknowledge her brother at all as she fell asleep. John waited until his cheek stopped stinging and the laid down. "Holy zed mum is going to kill me if she hears about this," he sighed as he drifted off to sleep.
A teddy bear dressed as the Phantom is sitting in some horrible torture device with several sharp pointy swords are aimed at it. Tucked in it's arms is a sign that says: Help please!