CSIs of the Opera
Upon watching one too many episodes of CSI, I thought to myself: what if they appeared in the Phantom world? Dumb as this may sound, they could investigate the death of one Joseph Buquet! I mean, thinking about it, did they even see Erik killing him? No? Then innocent until proven guilty!
I do not own POTO, CSI, or any other abbreviations. I also do not own Who Are You, The Who, The Guess Who, the whoes, Whoville, Who's Line is it Anyway, ho's DESIGN is it Anyway, or anything else.
Once again, I have no Spellcheck at the moment. Bear with me.
"My God! Theres been a murder!"
Andre bit his nails as Firmin placed a hand on his back.
"T-that fat man just died!" Andre cried. Firmin nodded, trying to keep him calm."What do we do! Did anyone see a suspect? Perhaps it was suicide! Oh dear..." And Andre fainted.
Firmin narrowed his eyes as he stared at the dead Joseph Buquet.
"This calls for the CSIs!"
And in an instant, they were there: Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Sara, Warrick and Greg.
"Woah." Warrick stated.
"Well put." Sara said.
"Where are we?" Catherine asked. It appeared they were on a stage of some sort. Red seats, a chandelier. Pretty nice. Nick began to take photographs.
"Hey, you can't have that! It's too modern!" Firmin cried as he ran on stage, dragging a half-dazed Andre behind him. "And this is a musical, you know."
"Who are you?" Grissom asked.
"Who?" asked Catherine.
"Who?" asked Nick.
"Who?" asked Sara.
"Who?" asked Warrick.
"Who are you?" Grissom asked again.
"Who?" asked Catherine.
"Who?" asked Nick.
"Who?" asked Sara.
"Who?" asked Warrick.
"Well, I'm-"
"I really want to know!" Griss interrupted him.
"Who are you?" asked the other five CSIs, Greg happy that he was now included.
"Oh!" Griss cried.
"Who?" cried the other CSIs.
"Come on tell me who are you? You, you!"
"I'm M. Firmin, one of the managers here."
"Oh, you." Grssom said, shrugging his shoulders. "And where are we?"
"Where?" Warrick sang. Everyone stared at him. He shuffled away, red-faced.
"Your at the Opera Populaire! Theres been a murder!" Firmin cried, pointing at Buquet's corpse.
"Ah," Greg said. "I thought I smelt something."
"No, thats just Buquet's regular aroma." Firmin replied. Sara looked as though she was going to vomit.
"Perhaps it was suicide," Grissom stated, stepping over the body.
"Bubbles!" Andre cried out.
"Is he okay?" Nick asked.
"I think he's gone insane!" Firmin cried. "Monsieur Andre! Andre!"
"I like grapes!" Andre replied.
"Observing a death can sometimes cause mental trauma," Sara said matter of factly. "Perhaps we could do a brain scan."
"A what what?" Firmin asked. "This is the 1800's, woman! We don't have that kind of technology!"
"Wait," Sara asked, wide eyed. "This is the 1800's?"
"Nope!" Griss called out. "Not suicide! This cockroach told me so," he held up a small bug.
"He's the bug guy," Catherine whispered to Firmin.
"Griss!" Sara cried. "Did you know this is the 1800's?"
"What?" Griss cried out. Suddenly, something in his head clicked. "Buquet...operahouse...the classic novel by Gaston Leroux...Who fell asleep watching Phantom of the Opera?" Gil demanded. Andre cowered.
"The Phantom stole my popsicle!"
"I don't know what your talking about, kind sir," Firmin cried angrily. "But I can't let you leave until you tell us who killed Buquet!"
"Hehe...Buckets!" Andre giggled.
"Enough out of you, Andre!" Firmin cried out. "Now tell me who killed Buckets! Er, Buquet!"
"Mosieur, before I can tell you that, I will need to use your crime lab and all it's fixings." Griss replied. Firmin gave him a blank stare.
"I don't understand a word you just said."
Griss stared at his CSIs, who were all panicking.
"This is going to be a looooong case."
Ooh that was dumb! And really bad too!