Chapter Ten: A Big Misunderstanding and I Start my Line of Investigation

"You rogue you!" Were the words that I woke up to the next morning.

I opened my eyes and saw my best friend standing over me. "What are you talking about?" I asked rubbing sleep from my eyes.

"Last night," she said winking at me.

"What about last night? I didn't even see you."

"Roar!" She said with a laugh. She then jumped on the bed and sat next to me. "Don't be acting dumb. You know what I'm talking about."

I blinked several times. I sat up and stared into my friend's blue eyes. "Dude, what the hell have you been smokin'? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I saw you in his arms last night," she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Your head was against his neck, kissing him no doubt and his hand was on your head, strokin' your hair gently."

It took me several minutes to figure out what my friend was talking about. When I finally realized what she was insinuating, I busted out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Becky asked, confused by my outburst of laughter.

It took me several minutes before I could compose myself. Words from Holmes's and my screaming match kept entering my mind, causing me to laugh harder. When I was finally able to stop giggling, I wiped my eyes and attempted to explain.

"Dude, there's an explanation for what you saw."

Becky cocked her head and raised her reddish-blond eyebrows. "This should be good."

"Seriously, we weren't doing either of the things you accused us of doing."

"Like hell you weren't."

"Lemme finish! Mr. Holmes and I were arguing, talking about the case at hand and comparing notes in that order…"

"Yeah you were comparing notes all right."

"Seriously! I suddenly got home sick and Mr. Holmes was just trying to…to comfort me. That's all."

"Yeah okay," Becky said rolling her eyes.

"Man, I'm telling the truth! I mean, I don't even know the guy. You know me, and you know I would try anything with a guy I barely know. Secondly, even if I wanted to do anything, which I didn't, Mr. Holmes wouldn't be interested."

"Whoa! You mean he's…"

"No! God no!" I replied, interrupting her before she could speak what she was implying. "He is just a workaholic who thinks females are unlivable, untrustworthy distractions to his work."

Becky pretended to be satisfied by my answer. "So what are you and Mr. Stud doing today?"

I ignored her comment about the detective. "Mr. Holmes and I aren't doing anything today. You and I, on the other hand, are going to explore Paris."

"Awesome!" My friend said with a grin.

That morning, I discovered that Watson managed to get Becky and me an adjoining room. We moved our stuff into the small room and continued to share the sitting room with the two men. Days turned into weeks and I barely saw the great detective. Occasionally we would give each other fleeting glances in the sitting room, but other then that, I rarely saw him. Watson, however became a close companion and confident. We took long strolls through Paris together and he became a father figure to me. For the first time in my life, I honestly felt like I had someone I could confide in.

One night, about a month and a half after our arrival into the Victorian Era, Sherlock Holmes and I were seated in the sitting room, in front of a blazing fire. I was the one who broke the silence.

"Mr. Holmes, what do you plan on doing tomorrow?"

"Well," he said once again puffing on his pipe. "I was thinking about interviewing Mademoiselle Daaé and le Vicomte de Chagny."

"Good idea," I replied with a slight smile. "Hopefully you'll find out a lot of information."

"Well, I was planning to do the interviews alone, but after learning that you have a knack for interviewing people, perhaps you would care to help me."

I'm sure my eyes lit up. "Hey, are you serious?" I couldn't hide the skeptism in my voice.

The consulting detective nodded. "Quite," he replied.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, finding myself surprised at his sudden change of confidence.

"You can question Mademoiselle Christine Daaé and report to me what you discovered."

"Cool," I said enthusiastically. "I promise I won't let you down."

Holmes nodded. "Yes well I trust you will not. Now, I suggest you get some sleep so you can get an early start tomorrow morning."

"All right, good night Monsieur Holmes."

"Goodnight."

Quickly I retired to the room I shared with Becky and fell into a dreamless sleep. The next morning I awoke earlier then usual. I completed my toilet before Becky awoke, dressed and hurried into the sitting room to find Holmes and Watson in conversation. When I entered the room, both men looked up.

"Sorry to interrupt," I said as I began retreating back into the bedroom.

"You're not interrupting anything," Dr. Watson said with a smile. "I trust you slept well."

"Yeah, pretty well, thanks."

"Are you hungry?" Watson asked.

I shook my head. "No thanks Doc. You gave me some money yesterday. I'm anxious to get to the opera house and speak with Mademoiselle Daaé. Once Becky is finished dressing, we'll be on our way. Thanks for the offer though."

Watson smiled at me warmly and then looked at his long time friend. "Well Holmes she's a miniature you. Doesn't worry about eating when there's a case at hand."

The detective favored his friend with a half-smile. "At least she's got her priorities straight, which is more than I can say for my Boswell."

I stood next to the great detective and called to Becky in the other room.

"I'm coming," she called back.

"Mackenzie," it was Holmes.

"Yes sir?"

"You know what you must do this morning, correct?"

I nodded. "Yessir."

Before he could reply, Becky walked out of the bedroom. Upon seeing me standing next to Holmes, she grinned wickedly. "I don't mean to interrupt," she said making sure I heard her sarcasm, "but I'm ready to go."

"You took long enough," I answered, trying to shrug off her undertones.

"Mackenzie."

"Yes Mr. Holmes?"

"I expect a full report when you return."

"Yessir!"

Bidding the two Victorian gentlemen farewell, Becky and I left their hotel room and walked outside.

"Where are we going?" My best friend asked.

"The opera house," I replied.

"Where's that?" She asked looking up the block.

"A few blocks away," I replied. "I think it's best if we walk."

"What in this cold?" She asked, wrapping her arms around her.

"It's not that cold," I answered. "It's only like forty degrees."
"Let's just get a cab."

"We can't afford one."

"Didn't Dr. Watson give you money?"

"Yes, but obviously we have to ration it."

"What do you mean? I'm not walking to the opera house in this weather."

"Look Becky," I said growing tired of bickering, "I know you don't want to walk, but if you want to eat breakfast when we're done, I suggest you think about forgoing the cab."

With an irritated grunt, Becky consented and we walked to the Palais Garnier in silence. When we reached the front of the building, Becky stopped and gaped in amazement.

"Come on," I said gently tugging her sleeve. "We can't stand here all morning and admire Monsieur Garnier's handiwork."

Becky nodded and we stepped inside the Opera House. Once again, my friend was smitten by the beauty and splendor of the Grand Staircase. I called her name and began walking to the office of the managers.

When we reached the office, we were stopped by the tall, thin man with thinning reddish hair and gold pince-nez, who Holmes and I met several days earlier. I could not, for the life of me remember his name.

"Can I help you?" He asked his voice nasally.

"Oui," I said offering him a slight smile. "We are looking for Mademoiselle Daaé."

"Mademoiselle Daaé is not seeing anyone, nor am I going to tell you where she can be found," he said in his haughtiest tone.

"Prick," Becky whispered in my ear although she had no idea what the man was saying.

I had a hard time controlling my laugher.

"Monsieur…"

"Rémy," he said with an air of self-importance.

"Monsieur Rémy we are helping Monsieur Sherlock Holmes with a very important investigation. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated."

"I don't care who you are helping," Rémy said angrily. "I am not authorized to show you to Mademoiselle Daaé's dressing room and that is final. Now, please go away."

Ok buddy, if you wanna play hardball, then we'll play hardball.

I stared at the pompous secretary. "Where is Monsieur Richard?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No," I said. I took a deep breath in attempt to keep my temper at bay. "But Monsieur Richard will see me."

"I'll see about that," Rémy said standing. "What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't, but my name is Sterling, Mackenzie Sterling," I answered quickly.

Monsieur Rémy left and then returned a few moments later with a red-faced Monsieur Firmin Richard in tow.

"Bon matin, Monsieur Richard," I said with my most pleasant smile. "It is very nice to see you again."

"Mademoiselle Sterling, what is it that you want?" The manager, asked suddenly remembering me from our last meeting.

"I wish to speak with Mademoiselle Daaé. It is a matter of the utmost importance. I am sorry for bothering you with such a trivial request, but your secretary would not give me permission to converse with her," I said glancing at the Rémy smugly.

Monsieur Richard contemplated my request for several moments before answering. When he finally spoke, I was greatly relieved. "Rémy, I was in a very important meeting with Monsieur Moncharmin, a meeting to which I am anxious to return. Anything Mademoiselle Sterling or her associates request, you do your best to fulfill my needs. Do I make myself clear?"

Nervously, Monsieur Rémy nodded. Once his boss was out of sight, he rolled his eyes.

"You hear the man," I said triumphantly. "Tell me how I can reach Mademoiselle Daaé's dressing room."

"I will escort you myself," the secretary said wearily getting to his feet.

I winked at Becky and the two of us followed the secretary through several winding corridors until we reached a small door near the end of a nearly deserted hallway.

"If you don't mind Monsieur Rémy," I said making sure my voice remained low enough not to disturb the diva within, "my friend and I would like to speak with Mm. Daaé alone."

With a slight nod, Monsieur Rémy disappeared the way we came. Once I was certain he was out of sight as well as earshot, I gently knocked on the door.