Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 2- Enter the Pawns

Moriarty stared around the busy night club around him several criminal family swarmed making deals and hits. Moriarty feeling the need to move began to stride through the club. He was here for on purpose and one purpose alone. It seemed he had two threats to his power in The Parisian Under world. The first one was the De Chagny Crime family.

Moriarty scowled. He never liked nobles, they were arrogant and cocky. Especially with orders, they treated orders like requests. If he didn't need the cigarette trade, he would cut them loose. He never liked the older boy, Ruelle. The younger brother was more pliant. At least the younger brother was eager to please and worked without question. Moriarty wanted to strangle the older brother when Ruelle would be condescending to him. But the De Chagnies were small potatoes compared to the other threat.

Moriarty moved through the crowd looking around as his mind pondered the other threat. Who in the Devil's name was the Phantom? He appeared out of no where one day and began sawing seeds of doubt in the Criminal Underground. Some the Heists Moriarty attempted, he pulled off. A few of Moriarty's future targets were snatched up by this man. Moriarty longed to put him in his place. He worked too long and hard to become the Napoleon of Crime to lose it now.

Even now as he glared at the crowd he was searching for the Phantom. A man, the Underworld whispers, that like him keeps coming back from the dead. They also whispered about the deadly feud that was wedged between the Phantom and the De Chagny. A feud everyone thought the Count finished six years ago when Erik Noir V was killed and his young daughter disappeared also rumored to be dead.

Moriarty was not amused and his displeasure was going to be directed at the Count. As Moriarty thought of different ways to torture the Count, A figure caught his attention. A beautiful woman with long curly brown hair stood up from a table. What made her stand out were her clothes. They resembled that of a Victorian Gentleman's. Gracefully she got up from the table and walked towards the back stage area. Moriarty watched her closely. She looked familiar.

The woman glanced over her shoulder. Moriarty fell into her sapphire eyes when their eyes met. In a flash they were gone as she disappeared back stage. Moriarty suddenly realized where he met her. She was that cat burglar, the one that worked for the Phantom. With a new sense of purpose he shoved his way through the crowd trying to reach her.

Moriarty stared down the dimly lighted hall way. She went this way he knew she did. Growling he yanked open every door he could looking for her. As he reached the last door, the smell of jasmine assailed his nostrils. Smirking, he tried the last door.

A pair of arms encircled his neck as a husky voice whispered in his ears, "Looking for me?"

Moriarty turned to face the dark beauty and grabbing her wrist removed her arms, "Yes I am."

"I see you like to play rough." The woman purred with a smile, "I can play rough too."

Moriarty glared at her, "I have heard that offer thousands of times."

The woman merely smiled as she pressed against him, "I bet you do. But how many of them have beaten you even at your own game."

Moriarty tightened his grip, "Your boss will not always win."

The woman merely smirked before pulling him into a kiss. Moriarty was stunned, no other Underground woman dared to do this. They made offers but never had any kissed him, no one but this woman. Giving into the kiss, he began to respond.

Suddenly she pulled him with her as they tumbled onto a bed with black sheets. Moriarty pulled away to look at her face. The sapphire eyes were slits with their color glowing up at him. Her chocolate hair was a mass of curls that surrounded her body. She whispered something to him. James didn't hear it over the roar of his own heart. Instead he leaned down to kiss her.

Moriarty sat up in a cold sweat. No, he almost had her. His fist clenched in anger and frustration. He nearly had the chit. After taking a few deep breaths, he reined his emotions in. He would find her as he'd sworn. Knowing sleep would elude him for the rest of the night, he moved, only to make another discovery. The sheets now needed to be washed.

Growling, Moriarty jumped from his bed and hastily began to dress. He had no time for erotic dreams or mysterious women. Right now, he needed to take back his empire. He refused to lose control over Paris. He had organized them and made it a very formidable network of thieves, murderers, and other rogues. There was no way some French upstart was taking that away. He was the Napoleon of Crime.

Throwing open the door of his room, he stalked into the main living room. Fenwick cowered back at the look on his master's face. Every morning he was like this, since the botched kidnapping, and Fenwick had learned to stay away. He cautiously watched as Moriarty walked over the computer terminal and began his research.

Knowing his news would upset him even more, Fenwick silently tried to sneak out. He really didn't want a lecture this early in the morning. Just as he reached his room, Moriarty called him back in a deceptively calm voice. Fenwick squared his shoulders and headed back.

"Yes, Master?" he asked.

"Did you find out anything of interest on our little upstart called the Phantom?" Moriarty asked calmly.

"Nothing we don't already know, except the de Chagnies have offered a reward for information on him."

"It seems we aren't the only ones looking for him," Moriarty mused as he flipped through the crime reports.

Fenwick took a breath and decided to get it over with, "No, we are not. It seems the Count de Chagny has brought Holmes to Paris to solve his brother's murder."

There was silence which made Fenwick nervous. Moriarty pinned him with a glare like Fenwick was responsible. Fenwick resisted the urge to put his hands up to defend himself. He had learned the best way to deal with Moriarty was to face him head on.

Moriarty growled internally. That filthy aristocrat was asking for a death wish. He could destroy everything by bringing Holmes here and investigating a club that was a hub of the Underworld. Slamming his fist into the desk, Moriarty concocted several ways to kill the Count and his archnemesis.

"I'll kill them both," Moriarty vowed. "I will make sure neither one wastes the air with their pathetic breathing. That miserable aristocrat! He couldn't sit back and wait like everyone told him to. He had to bring in Holmes."

Fenwick flinched as Moriarty ranted to no one in particular. He knew it was going to be a long day already. Fenwick swore to go back to the club and see if he could maybe persuade the cute singer to take pity on him. He hid his smile and decided that would be what he would do.

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Holmes helped Lestrade out of the hover cab outside The Surete's Headquarters. He looked over the old building. He smiled as he recognized Garnier's designs. Granted it wasn't as grand as the Opera House, which he was saddened to learn was now abandoned.

Lestrade led him up the stairs and into the main office areas. Holmes admired her for a moment but shaking his head. He needed to get over this. She would never see him more than a partner. Reluctantly he followed her to a desk marked Leroux.

Leroux was an older man with graying hair and sharp hazel eyes. He reminded Holmes of a wolf watching out for predators or prey, whichever crossed his path first. Leroux motioned for them to wait while he argued with someone on the phone. He looked frazzled yet ready for anything. When he finally hung up, he flashed them a smile.

"Welcome to hell. How may I help you?" He joked.

"I'm Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard, and this is my partner, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," Lestrade introduced, "We were told to come to you, Inspector Leroux."

Leroux nodded, "Oui. I'm to help you with the de Chagny case, per orders of the Count himself."

"Does he have a say in who gets the case?" Holmes queried

"Not directly. He has enough friends to get what he wants when he wants it." Leroux sighed as he pulled out the folder, "I can't say I'm sad to see this case go. The kid brother went fast enough that he was in very little pain, but it was very messy."

"Any witnesses?" asked Lestrade as she looked over the file with him and Holmes.

"A whole clubful, but none that are reliable. The Rose et Masque Rouges is a well known place for members of the Underworld to go and discuss deals." Leroux sighed as he spread out the pictures, "Trying to track down the witnesses is hard."

Lestrade nodded as she scanned each photo, "I can imagine. The poor guy never had a chance."

"Especially with his last name. De Chagny is not a well-liked name."

Holmes looked up at this point, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, the older brother got off a murder charge about six years ago. He was accused of killing his lover's father right in front of her." Leroux shrugged, "When the poor girl disappeared after her father's burial, the magistrate dropped the charges because there wasn't a witness."

Holmes' eyes twinkled, "Can we look at that case as well? It may provide a clue."

Leroux seemed caught off guard by the question, "Um… certainly. I'll get it from the archives. Excuse me for a moment."

Holmes waited until Leroux was gone before he whispered, "I think there is more to the Count than we were led to believe."

Lestrade seemed surprised by his statement, "Holmes, It's probably bad luck. I mean, the girl disappeared after her father's funeral. She could have killed her father and blamed the Count."

"Or she was afraid. We won't know until we read the file and check it out. I have a feeling the two cases are related," Holmes stated firmly.

"Maybe, but you shouldn't rush to judgment."

"At least I'm thinking objectively," Holmes snapped, "He is a suspect. You should wait until we have more on him before you try defending him. He could be the killer for all we know."

Lestrade growled, "I am being objective. I'm just not condemning him every chance I get."

"That's because you are too dazzled by his charm to see straight and then you make mistakes. We can't make mistakes with this case or we could easily die."

"I won't get us killed. You think I'm that stupid?" Lestrade spat at him. When Holmes didn't reply immediately, Lestrade looked up at him in shock. Did he really think she was stupid? True, she wasn't on the same level as him, but still she could hold her own. Hurt surged through her body and she reacted the only way she knew how.

The slap echoed through the station. The activity didn't stop completely but everyone heard it. Holmes stared at Lestrade in shock at her actions. Lestrade glared at him coldly before turning and walking out. Holmes continued to stand there with his hand on his cheek as he watched her leave with the grace of a queen. It wasn't until Leroux returned with the case file that he snapped out of it. He nodded to the French officer before gathering the two files and leaving.

Leroux waiting until the detective was gone before he picked up the vid phone and dialed a number. A Middle Eastern man with a shaggy beard appeared on the screen. His black eyes were hard as he stared at Leroux. Leroux swallowed before he spoke.

"Bonjour, Nadir." Leroux tried to smile.

"What is it, Leroux? I'm very busy." Nadir stated quietly.

"I have news for the Phantom. Sherlock Holmes and his Yardie partner were just here. They took the de Chagny and Noir murder cases to study. It seems the Count hired them to solve his brother's murder," Leroux reported.

Nadir considered this. "I will tell him. You better make sure they don't snoop too much or there will be hell to pay."

"Of course, Khan." Leroux nodded before Nadir cut the connection. Leroux let out a breath. Why couldn't Danesh or Josef answer? At least they were friendly. Khan was scary almost as scary as the Phantom himself. Squaring his shoulder, Leroux returned to his work. Tomorrow he would arrange to meet with his New London counterparts, but right now he needed to return to his duty.

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The Phantom smiled as his finger danced along the organ's keys. The sound it produced echoed through the abandoned Opera House. This was its home, despite the Count's attempt to purge it. The Count was a fool; as long as there was a Paris there would always be a Phantom. But at least the fool was slowly learning the pain he'd caused.

It didn't regret taking the de Chagny boy from this world. The poor fool deserved it, sitting there like he owned the club. Well, now he owned a plot of land for eternity. The smile grew wider; soon the elder boy would join him. The count may have believed he'd won six years ago but he was wrong. And being wrong in this game was fatal.

The Phantom hit the key change as its thoughts flipped over to the new pawns in the game. Moriarty was one it was already acquainted with. The Phantom wondered how long until the fellow mastermind came to fight back. The Phantom smiled evilly; it intended to rule the Underworld itself. After all, what else could it do after de Chagny was dead? Fading away wasn't an option. So it had challenged Moriarty early for supremacy in the Paris Underworld. Moriarty had answered the call beautifully so far. That would be an intriguing game, as well, with Moriarty's archnemesis joining in

Sherlock Holmes would be a true threat and the obvious wildcard. With de Chagny and Moriarty, the Phantom knew what they wanted. It chuckled; it wasn't going to die so easily for either of them. But Holmes was a mystery. What did the Great Detective want? That was the real riddle. And the Phantom was determined to find out one way or another.