Chapter Thirty Four: A Gruesome Discovery

"Holmes is he…" I could not finish my statement and instead stared at Raoul de Chagny who was lying in the doorway of the sacristy, the lower half of his body pinned beneath a large, heavy looking granite slab. The upper half of his body covered with decayed skulls.

The detective did not reply, but strode toward him, and knelt down next to him and placed his hand on the young man's neck.

"He's alive," the detective said grimly. He looked down at the slab, his face completely devoid of emotion. As I watched him study the situation, I briefly wondered if he was that intent when he had to free me from the rubble under the opera house.

"Mackenzie, you must help me," he said looking into my face.

"Sure what do you need me to do?" I asked walking over to him.

He stood and put both hands on either side of the granite slab. "When I lift this, I need you to pull de Chagny backward." Without another word, Holmes lifted the slab off the slab off the viscount. His straining muscles nearly tore his shirt and the look of intense concentration made him look extremely rugged and sexy. "All right Mackenzie," he said, his voice hoarse with strain, "pull him back."

I glanced down and saw the multitude of skulls on top of de Chagny. I certainly had no desire to touch them. He wants me to put my hand underneath all these skulls to grab a fop? Is he for real? This defiantly cannot be sanitary! Lord only knows the health risks, I could come down with hepatitis or something.

"Mackenzie, now please! I cannot hold this much longer," there was a touch of impatience and irritation in his voice which sent me into action. I defiantly didn't want him to be pissed at me.

I closed my eyes and plunged my hand into the hill of skulls this is so disgusting; the feeling of brittle bone beneath my hands turned my stomach into Barnum and Bailey's three-ring circus. I know I'm gonna be sick! When I finally grabbed hold of de Changy's shoulders I pulled him toward me with all my strength.

Damnit this guy is heavy!

What do you expect Mac, you're pulling dead weight! Just shut up and get him out from underneath those bones!

I kept my eyes shut and pulled until I heard a crash and sharply expelled breath. I stopped backpedaling and opened my eyes, only to see an extremely sweaty Sherlock Holmes bending at the waist, hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath. The sweat caused some of the red paint from the wig he was wearing to adhere to his forehead, making him look like a young boy on Halloween who was unsuccessful in removing all the greasepaint he was wearing.

When he finally caught his breath, he looked up at me; his face streaked with mud and sweat, and flashed me a brief smile. Instantly I thought of Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones and my heart beat more wildly in my chest.

Okay Mac, stay calm…think of something repulsive so you don't get turned on. Think of those skulls you just touched and the number of bugs that might be underneath them.

That thought did it and I suddenly felt sick, my sexual arousal instantly forgotten. I allowed my eyes to rove around and they settled on Holmes who was making his way toward me and the unconscious fop, with feline like agility and grace.

"Well done," he murmured when he passed by me. He once again knelt next to the man on the floor and began feeling his legs and chest. After several minutes, the detective shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe it!"

"What can't you believe?" I asked curiously.

"He has no broken bones. Of course Watson will have to examine him when we get him back to the Setting Sun, but I do not think he suffered any major injuries."

"That's good," I said without any enthusiasm. Common sense was finally kicking in and I realized that Holmes and I would have to carry Raoul de Chagny back to the inn, while trudging through snow that was ankle deep. This was going to be fun! "How pray tell do you expect to get him back to the Setting Sun? I don't see any hansom cabs around," I said, hoping my fears about having to walk with an unconscious guy slung over my shoulder, were ill founded.

"We carry him," Holmes replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to say.

I smiled grimly. "Oh yes we carry him. How stupid of me not to realize it!" I know that sarcasm oozed from my words, but I was cold and tired, certainly not in the mood to carry someone who probably weighs at least one hundred and fifty pounds several miles in the snow. "All right genius, how are we going to do this?"

"You want his head?"

"WHAT!" I couldn't believe my ears. Holmes did NOT just ask me that.

He cocked his head to the side and his eyebrows were raised. "I simply suggested that you hold his head while I support the rest of him. Did I say something wrong?"

I laughed at his confusion as well as at myself. Wow! He could have phrased THAT a little better. Mac get your mind OUT of the gutter NOW! "Sorry Holmes," I said with a shrug of my shoulders. The look in his eyes signaled me to explain my outburst of surprise but there was no way in hell I was gonna do that. "Yeah I'll carry his upper body," I said trying to appear stronger than I was.

With another queer look, Holmes lifted the lower half of Raoul de Chagny as if the man weighed no more than a feather. With a little bit of a struggle, I managed to support Raoul's upper body and we exited the sacristy.

As we trudged thought the snow (which was now calf deep and was still falling) I tried several times to draw Holmes into conversation. These attempts however proved to be a waste of time because when he deigned to answer me, it was with a grunt or some other unintelligible sound. He was wrapped in his own thoughts, none of which he was willing to share with me. Bored and tired I began talking to the unconscious viscount.

When we finally reached the Setting Sun, Raoul de Chagny finally began to come to. When we entered the establishment, we carried the now awakening viscount up three flights of stairs and dropped him unceremoniously on Watson's bed.

Once we made sure Watson would take care of the boy, I followed Holmes back down the stairs into the lobby, where he slumped into the small sofa in front of a dying fire. Without bothering to remove his snow covered coat, he removed a cigarette from his case, lit it and inhaled the smoke gratefully.

Not knowing what else to do, I flopped down next to him, thankful for the meager warmth the dying fire was providing.

"Man it feels good to sit down," I said to no one in particular.

"You should get into some dry cloths and get a good night's sleep," Holmes said without looking at me. "I don't want you to catch your death of cold."

I smiled slightly. It felt good that he was concerned for my well being. "You should do the same Holmes."

"I need some time alone to think." There was my dismissal.

I didn't take the bait. "What are you going to think about?"

"None of your concern," was his curt reply.

When I realized that my presence was pissing him off, I stood and stretched. "You're right, I do need some sleep. Hey Holmes, can you promise me something?"

"Hmmm?"

"Look, just promise me that you won't beat yourself up too much about not catching this Phantom. I don't wanna wake up tomorrow morning and find you still sitting here. All right?"

"Good night," was the only thing he said to me.

I walked past him and messed his hair affectionately. Then without looking back at him, I once again mounted the stairs and entered the small room we were all sharing.

"How's de Chagny?" I asked Watson when I saw him.

"He's fine," the doctor replied, putting away his medical things. "I brought him to his room, gave him a sedative and told him I'd see how he was in the morning." When he looked up at me, he instantly frowned with disapproval. "Mackenzie! Go put on some dry clothing before you catch pneumonia."

"I'm fine Doc," I said with a slight smile. "Thanks for your concern though."

Watson's eyes narrowed in anger. "As your physician, I order you to get into dry clothing this instant. And where is Holmes?" He added as an after thought.

I grudgingly listened to him and went into the bathroom where I changed into my nightgown. "He's downstairs in the lobby, sitting in front of a dying fire, beating himself up over what he thinks is a failure," I said as I exited the bathroom. "Typical behavior."

Watson shook his head and settled on one of the small chairs. He motioned for me to sit opposite him with the other.

"Would you mind telling me what transpired this evening?" The doctor asked when I sat down in the chair he indicated. "You and Holmes brought young de Chagny here, and then darted off again without a word of explanation. When the lad awoke, his only concern was Mademoiselle Daaé and I could get nothing out of him as to how he came to be unconscious."

I chuckled. "Very sorry about that Doc," I said with a smile. "It's a long story, but a fascinating one at that. Lemme start at the beginning. Holmes and I hurried to the graveyard to keep watch on Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daaé to see if either of them would mention the Angel of Music…"