Saturday: Same Song, Second Act

Doc Watson

"Have you seen anything of interest?" A familiar voice murmured in my ear. As if the thought had summoned him, Holmes had managed to sneak up on me unnoticed.

"Nothing yet."

"Nothing from my pigeon either. He is currently flirting with one of the ballerinas." I had noticed the man Holmes was talking about. By the look on the young lady's face, he was doomed to failure.

"And Mr. Alex?"

"Up here." We both looked upward. The young Mr. Alex was perched in the flies above us, like a monkey. "My guy is currently picking his teeth."

"I suppose it is too much to hope that our criminal has given up." I said.

"You are correct, Watson." Holmes replied. "He has risked too much to stop this Opera. He will not give up now."

"Where's Solei?" Alex called down.

"A Miss Brook had a crisis," I said, as much to Holmes as to Alex. "Miss Solei was called in to assist. There she is."

I was not the only one to note Miss Solei's arrival. Jenkins moved quickly across the stage and took the musician by the elbow. They exchanged a few words and I could see her expression change from confusion to horrified realization. Jenkins forced Miss Solei down a side hallway and my heart sank.

"It's him!" Holmes cried. Alex vaulted down the ladder to the stage. We three dashed across the stage, dodging sopranos and stagehands hauling props. It seemed to take an eternity as visions of disaster flashed through my mind. To think that three men could fail to protect one woman when she was only a few yards away

We reached the hallway at nearly the same time. It was a dead end with several doors leading off and, most bafflingly, a large hole had been knocked in one wall. I could hear voices from one room halfway down the hall. It was locked.

Holmes understood the situation in a second and set about breaking the door down. After three blows the door gave way, and we faced the saboteur.

"Stay back!" He snarled, brandishing a knife like a cornered animal. Miss Solei crouched fearfully in the far corner.

"Chill, dude." Mr. Alex called over my shoulder. A small part of my mind wondered at his strange diction.

"You are surrounded." Holmes said calmly. "Surrender now."

"I'm not done yet!" Jenkins cried, reaching for Miss Solei. "You're going to let me go."

Before any of us could react, Miss Solei took matters into her own hands. She leapt, grabbing her assailant around the neck and knocking the knife from his hand. Jenkins jumped backwards, slamming her against the wall and she slid, half-fainting, to the floor. Holmes and I wrestled Jenkins to the ground and Holmes secured the saboteur with handcuffs. I turned in time to see Alex help Miss Solei to her feet.

"I suppose we shall have to add attempted kidnapping to your list of offenses, Mr. Jenkins." Holmes said, as he pulled Jenkins to his feet. Miss Solei swore softly.

"I bet this means I'll have to testify again." She said to Alex. She cocked her head, listening, and a look of panic crossed her face. She swore again and dashed out the door, headed for the orchestra pit.

"Break a leg!" Mr. Alex called after her.

"She was nearly killed and she is worried about missing the curtain?" I asked, frankly bewildered. Alex turned to me and grinned.

"It's an Opera thing."

Author's Note

Regarding slang: Turns out that 'dude' as a slang term originates in the mid 19th century and originally referred to a someone who was very fashionable or a dandy. It also meant a city person who was useless in the country [see: dude ranch]. It apparently wasn't a generic term for a person until the 1960s. slang is cool, but surprisingly complicated.

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.•´¨•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨•.