A/N: I posted this on DBCA first, and said that the first person besides Jordie to get the Opera Wench joke would get a cameo. Eriksmistress (eriksangelofvoice on here) got it, so she'll be getting her cameo soon. Butto be fair, since many of you have never heard of the DBCA and/or have never visitedaforementioned site in your life, the offer still stands...

Michael Crawford!Erik massaged his temples.

He stared at the novel in front of him, daring his fingers to turn yet another disturbing page, but even the thin paper had begun to feel like lead.

Heather, in the main grotto, was inching towards the organ.

"Don't you dare," said Erik from within his room.

Heather stumbled over her own feet and caught herself by landing smack on the keys.

A horridly discordant sound erupted, proving irrevocably that untrained fingers should never dare to have a try at Erik's organ.

When the sound had died down, Heather, her face white as a sheet, looked over and up slowly, eyes tracing inch by inch the impressive black-clad frame standing centimeters from her nose.

"M…eep?" she whispered.

Back in Pennsylvania, the muses were clustered around the floating colorful ribbon-shapes hovering above the lightning-struck hole.

"Here is the vortex," announced Holmes. "Or rather, a residue of such."

"And you are suggesting that we…jump through it?" asked Leroux!Erik dubiously.

Quinn, looking resplendent in a brand spanking new tartan kilt, pursed his lips and rubbed irritably at the lovely stubble that there had been no time to shave off.

"You look fine," said Louis sensually, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and managing to scare the living daylights out of everybody. "Beautiful, in fact."

"Louis!" snapped Holmes.

The emerald-eyed vampire sighed mournfully. "Ah, cruel mortals, as you wish…" He disappeared from sight, but not before planting a very cold kiss on Quinn's cheek, which left the Scottish muse looking as though a serpent had just bitten him.

The unnamed and quite foppishly handsome Disney prince shook himself, morphing back into Beast shape and shaking his shaggy horned head. "They never learn," he growled. "Always popping up when they aren't needed…"

"He is needed," said Holmes calmly. "Unfortunately, we have already discussed the whys and the wheretofores of his not being allowed to help."

Erik shivered, staring at the place where Louis had disappeared. "Just as well," he whispered. "Flits both ways, that one does. He…"

"Kahndly don't remind me," muttered Quinn. He shook himself, rubbing violently at his cheek as if to get rid of a particularly nasty mustard-stain.

"I don't particularly agree with that sort of thing myself," muttered Holmes, grimacing slightly, "but we're most likely going to be the cause of the authoress receiving an awful lot of flames if we go any farther on that subject, and she loves Louis and Lestat dearly at any rate no matter what their…er…. 'orientation'…happened to be whilst they were mortals, so shall we desist?"

"Always on her side, aren't you?" Erik grumbled.

Holmes smiled sycophantically. "My dear fellow, it's what I do. I look out for other people's welfare."

"Hmph," grunted Erik. "Well…last one in's a rotten egg…"

He promptly prepared himself for a leap when Holmes grabbed his skeletal hand. "My dear fellow," he whispered urgently, "have you considered that if we don't all go in at once, we might end up at different places?"

Erik paused. "As a matter of fact," he said silkily. "I hadn't."

Holmes waited.

There remained a pregnant silence.

Holmes sighed. "I don't get a thanks, do I? Well, well…chivalry is dead after all. A pity…"

Erik twitched. "Grr…" he growled, widening his eyes and making odd gestures with his hands, attempting to make Holmes flinch. It would be worth it, after all.

"Bug off, Erik. That's my job," snapped the Beast, gazing with distaste at Erik's "claws."

"I 'ate to interrupt," said Quinn, "and even more tae bring this up, but…ah guess we should all hold hands when we jump…"

Every muse twitched, even Holmes, though his was barely perceptible.

"A good thing," whispered Erik, shivering, "that those blasted vampires aren't here."

"Quinn is right, my dear fellow," said Holmes briskly. "If we're going to end up in the same place, we must cast aside our homophobic tendencies and grin and bear it."

He promptly, and in a most dignified fashion, grabbed Quinn's hand, who shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth and trying not to mutter nasty Scottish curses.

Beast, forgetting to sheath his claws, grabbed Holmes' other hand, making the great detective wince sharply with pain, at which Erik smiled smugly.

Quinn looked at Erik, grimaced, and slowly, as if about to handle a disgusting slime-mold, stretched out his flinching hand.

Erik sighed, shaking his head. "All for one," he muttered. "And one for all…"

"Stop stealing lines from movies!" snapped the Beast.

"It was a book first, you horned twit," groused Erik, grimacing and gingerly grabbing the very tips of Quinn's fingers, looking for all the world like Heather picking up a pair of her brother's boxers that had accidentally got mixed in with her laundry. "And I'll have you know…"

"Quiet," said Holmes. "One…two…three…"

They held their breath (goodness knows why) and jumped.