Present Time

The Lifeboat landed in the padded room without a sound. The team started to emerge from the machine when the door to the landing room opened. With the door open, the team could hear the warning overhead on the speakers. "Incoming traveler."

They exited the landing pad and into the hallway. Agent Christopher asked, "What happened?"

"We think we know what happened at Roanoke," Rufus told her.

Agent Christopher's brows drew together. "The lost colony?"

"Not so lost after all," Wyatt muttered. "Stolen."

"Stolen?" she repeated, glancing about the team. "Could someone explain, please?"

Lucy opened her mouth to speak when Wyatt chimed in, cutting her off, "Rittenhouse or Bloodstone took the entire colony."

"Why would they do that?" she asked. "What do they gain from that?"

Wyatt shrugged. "I don't know but Jiya was there," he stated, glancing over to Jiya.

Jiya shifted in her place, holding her hands up defensively. "I swear, I don't know anything."

Flynn watched Wyatt carefully. Wyatt stated, "I just wish you would be more helpful when you pop through time."

Jiya scoffed, pulling away slightly. "Yes, I purposely withhold information just to spite you," she retorted sarcastically. She rolled her eyes, walking away from him before he could say anything else.

Rufus grimaced as he turned his attention to Wyatt. "Dude...really?"

Wyatt shrugged like he was innocent in all of this as he watched Rufus follow Jiya out of the hall. He shook his head, turning to the others who were looking at him with disapproving glances. "What? I'm saying this now so when she does come to find us, maybe she'd be more helpful...I didn't mean she was doing it now..." he sighed, adding, "I'll apologize later."

Agent Christopher gave him a silent lecture behind her gaze before asking, "What else do we know?"

Lucy filled her in on the men they had encountered from Jamestown having been in the colony, the strange marks in the mud, and the carved message on the tree. Then she described what Flynn believed it all to mean.

When Lucy finished, Agent Christopher turned to Flynn and Lucy. "How worried should we be that Rittenhouse or Bloodstone are taking whole villages?"

"I think it's Bloodstone," Flynn stated, crossing his arms over his chest. "They've taken people from their timelines before. Maybe they figured out how to take more than one."

Agent Christopher's brows drew together. "Are you suggesting they have more than one machine?"

He shrugged. "Or they've found a way to travel through time with more than four at a time."

Lucy added, "It could even be possible we're seeing different versions of them...Mason said our futures change..."

Denise sighed, pinching the bridge to her nose. "Get some rest." Lucy and Flynn exchanged glances before leaving Agent Christopher alone with her thoughts.

Flynn walked down the hall toward his room. His mind thought back over the details of the mission. He knew he missed details - details Future Jiya told him to look for. He tried to let his frustration with Wyatt go - knowing how hot-headed the man could get - but this felt important to him. He hated that he didn't speak up but he knew how tired all of them have been lately - Wyatt especially. The poor guy had fallen asleep, just like the rest of them, it was unfair to hoist all of the blame onto Wyatt when the rest were just as guilty - he was just as guilty. He knew he owed the man an apology for not having heard anything during his watch - hard to do when you're asleep in a building on the outskirts of a colony.

He reached for the handle to his bedroom door when the alarms sounded overhead again. "Active time travel initiated." He sighed, head falling to his chest as he turned to head down the hall once more.

It didn't take long for everyone to regroup in the control room. Flynn's eyes darted about, brows drawing together as he realized Tenley hadn't joined them. He opened his mouth to ask about her when Jiya announced, "Paris, France, September 15, 1877."

Lucy blinked at the date, shaking her head. "There was...a constitutional crisis but that was May..." she shook her head again. "I'm sorry..."

Agent Christopher inhaled deeply. "Just be careful."

The four climbed into the Lifeboat. Rufus muttered, "Heigh-ho, heigh-ho."

"We just got back," Wyatt groaned, rubbing his palm against his tired blue eyes.

Lucy sat in silence alongside Flynn as she tried to make sense of what was coming. She could speak the language but that wasn't what had her afraid. She simply didn't know what to expect. The more they traveled through time lately, the less she knew of the events they were walking into. She hated that feeling of not knowing. If she didn't know what was coming, what purpose did she have as the team's historian? She hated feeling useless.

The Lifeboat disappeared from the landing room. Jiya turned to Agent Christopher and Mason. "Is it just me or is the tension getting thicker around here?"

1877

The team walked down the cobblestone roads of Paris, dressed in formal wear they managed to snag from the back of someone's coach as the evening approached. Rufus glanced down at his black shiny and tight dress shoes. He complained, "These shoes are not made for walking."

Lucy glanced over at him, lifting the hem of her blue dress to show the tight, high ankle shoe with quarter-sized buttons that were most likely digging into her flesh. "Shall we compare?"

Rufus's eyes lowered to her shoes, shaking his head. "Why didn't they ever think to make comfortable clothes early on?"

"Fashion statements over comfort," she told him, lowering her skirts. "It was a mark of wealth and status-"

Wyatt glanced about the road. "Not to sound like an ass," he began turning to the others, his exhausted expression apparent on his face, "but I'm tired. I just want to sleep in a comfortable bed so...if you don't mind, can we figure out why we're here and go home?"

Flynn nodded in agreement as he scanned the busy streets. There were several people dressed elegantly, walking arm in arm down the lane. His brows knitted together as he asked, "Maybe we should find out where everyone is heading?"

The others looked around to see several people heading in the same direction. Just on the other side of the street, around the corner, they could see bright lights and faint music growing. It wasn't until they began walking down the lane, Lucy realized where they were heading.

A smile grew on her face as her eyes lit up. "The Palais Garnier..." her voice sighed dreamily as she turned the corner and saw the beautiful building before them.

They saw the elegant architecture, the marble statues that stood erect like guards at each pillar. There were horse-drawn coaches pulling up to the front, letting the elite out at the curb. The music grew louder as people filtered inside.

Wyatt stared at the massive opera house. "Let me guess," he started. "We need tickets."

Lucy nodded. "We need tickets."

Rufus turned to face Wyatt. "Are you going to 'Jack Dawson' it up again like you did with the Pulaski?"

Wyatt glared at him. "Something tells me these people aren't the gambling type."

Rufus nodded slightly. "So, you're going to pickpocket them like you did 'Grease Lightning'?"

"Want to say that a bit louder?" Wyatt complained.

Flynn shushed them, taking a step forward, eyes bouncing about the building.

"Did you just shush me?" Wyatt asked, stunned. Rufus twisted his lips in amusement.

Flynn waved the remark aside. "We need to get in through the workers' entrance." He turned his attention back to the others. "Come on."

"Where is he going?" Rufus asked.

"I don't know," Wyatt began, "but we should follow him."

The three rushed to catch up to Flynn, who was already crossing the street to make his approach from the back of the Opera House. Flynn had been to the Opera House once with his wife on their honeymoon but things were different in this timeline.

He led the team to the back of the building, spotting a few workers outside. They had a bottle of liquor they were passing back and forth. Flynn watched them for a moment, noticing their inebriated state. Glancing over his shoulder, he muttered, "Follow me."

The team quickly slipped by the drunkards without an issue. They darted through the back rooms of the Opera House, making sure to avoid the performers and stagehands who'd know they had snuck inside.

"Where are you taking us?" Wyatt whispered. "Do you even know where you're going?"

Flynn ignored the man as he led them towards the stairs to the upper floors. Slowly opening the door, Flynn glanced out to make sure the coast was clear. He motioned for the others to follow as he slipped through.

Wyatt's lips curved slightly, nodding with approval. "Not bad."

Flynn turned his gaze over to Wyatt. "You would have done the same thing if you knew the place." The two shared a brief moment of friendly camaraderie. Wyatt nodding his head in thanks over the compliment.

Rufus glanced at the two in shock. He lifted his finger, pointing between them. "Did you two just become friends?" Wyatt rolled his eyes at him.

"Do you recognize anyone important?" Wyatt asked Lucy as he looked around at the fancy people conversing in the halls.

Lucy struggled to pay attention as she stood captivated by the elegance of the opera house in its prime. The velvet red carpet lined the halls that led to the opera boxes with the faintest trimmings of gold. The marble statues held intricate candlesticks that glowed brightly, illuminating the building with its golden shine. Faint music could be heard wafting through the air as the orchestra within the concert hall warmed up, encouraging the guests deeper in.

"Focus," Wyatt hissed under his breath. He had seen that look on her face more than once. He knew how easily distracted she could be in certain historical moments - this was one of those times.

She blinked. "Sorry," she whispered, glancing around the crowds. Her dark eyes landed on two men at the far end of the hall causing her brows to draw together. She motioned briefly toward them. "That's Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and -"

"Sherlock?" Rufus asked, straining to get a good look at the tall man.

Lucy nodded. "The author for Sherlock Holmes," she confirmed, "and the man with him was the inspiration for Sherlock...his name is Joseph Bell. He was an incredible surgeon-"

"Sherlock wasn't a surgeon," Wyatt corrected her.

She glanced over at him. "I said he was the inspiration for Sherlock. I didn't say he was Sherlock."

"Do you think it's possible that Bloodstone or Rittenhouse would be here for them?" Wyatt questioned.

Rufus chuckled. "You think Rittenhouse are Cumberbitches?"

Lucy muttered, "I always preferred Jeremy Brett, myself." Rufus nodded slightly in agreement.

Flynn gritted his teeth, scanning the rest of the hallway, searching for anyone else who stood out - including potential sleepers.

Lucy became so awestruck with the building and the two men down the hall from them, she didn't see the portly man approaching them before he slammed into her. "Ooh!" she gasped, catching herself against Wyatt's chest who wrapped his arms around her before she tripped over her feet.

"I'm terribly sorry," the man stated, his voice sincere. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking. Are you alright?"

Lucy blinked, smiling at him. "I am, thank you."

He returned the smile, adjusting his pince-nez on his nose. The man was larger in nature, a mop of unruly curls that matched the graying beard and mustache. He dressed in the typical formalwear of the times, black suit with coattails, white gloves adorning his hands as he extended his hand toward her.

Lucy's mouth fell open as she saw the two she identified across the hallway nearing. Her eyes stared wide as she struggled to focus on one of them.

"There ye are," the taller gentleman said, eyeing the stout one before Lucy. "Arthur and I were just wondering where ye had disappeared to."

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Joseph Bell turned their attention to the team. Lucy swallowed, eyes locked onto theirs. The portly man chuckled. "I bumped into this lovely lady, quite by accident or rather, by fate," he turned back to Lucy, "excuse me, these are my colleagues, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Joseph Bell." The team smiled, nodding their hellos to the men before them. The portly man kissed Lucy's hand. "And I am Gaston Leroux."

Flynn saw Lucy freeze as the introductions were made. It didn't take the team long to realize that Lucy was in awe over the three men before them. He stepped forward and said, "Forgive my sister," he glanced at her before turning his gaze back to the men, "she's had a long journey to get here. May I introduce my sister, Irene Adler."

Lucy coughed as she felt the shock of Flynn's words hit her. She glared up at him before smiling at the three men. "Pleasure," she said.

Flynn continued, "This is Dr. Watson," he motioned to Rufus. Rufus blinked away the confusion and shock before nodding with a smile, standing straighter, happy to have a title during a mission for once. Flynn motioned over to Wyatt. "Mr. Moriarty." Wyatt shook his head slightly at his infamous alias.

Gaston smiled, shaking hands with all of them. "Thank you for the introductions, Mr. Adler," he said, shaking Flynn's hand. "Where are your seats this evening?"

Flynn patted his jacket before sighing heavily, feigning having lost them. "It would seem that I have misplaced our tickets-"

"Do not fret," Gaston started. "I bumped into your lovely sister," he smiled at her, "I feel it is my duty to share my box with all of you."

"We couldn't impose-" Flynn started.

"Nonsense!" Gaston interrupted, his voice booming. He turned to Joseph and Arthur. "You don't mind having a few extra friends join us, do you?" The two shook their heads, glancing at one another as Gaston turned back to the team. "It's settled! You shall join us!"

The team exchanged glances with one another as they followed the overly exuberant author to their box. Lucy gasped as she realized the box they were heading into was Box 5. She halted in her step.

"What's wrong?" Flynn asked quietly.

She licked her lips, staring at the door. "Box 5 was The Phantom of the Opera's preferred box..."

"So?" Wyatt asked, leaning over her shoulder.

She turned to face him. "Gaston Leroux is the author for The Phantom of the Opera." When he didn't seem to be following, she added, "Which took place in this very opera house?"

"I never read it," Wyatt admitted.

Rufus sighed. "I've got to make a list of movies for you to see when we get home." Wyatt turned to look at Rufus. Rufus added, "It's faster than reading."

"What's the big deal?" Wyatt questioned. "There's no real phantom."

Lucy gawked at him. She felt a loss for words. Before she could force herself to respond to Wyatt's remark, Gaston poked his head out of the box. "Is everything all right?"

Lucy's eyes bounced back to the man. She smiled. "Of course, I'm sorry." She brushed by Wyatt as she entered Box 5.

The team followed her into the semi-large box that overlooked the auditorium. Lucy's eyes lifted to see the beautiful chandelier overhead, glittering crystals against the candles surrounding it. It was a stunning sight to behold and she understood why Gaston Leroux was so enthralled by it.

Flynn sat down in the corner, next to Joseph Bell. Bell turned his attention to Flynn and asked, "What is it that ye do, Mr. Adler?"

"I work for the government," he told the man.

Bell's eyes narrowed at him but nodded curtly. "Interesting," he began. "Ye're lying, yet ye're not at the same time. Either ye're quite cunning or a man of mystery."

"I think every man has a bit of mystery about them," Flynn replied. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Bell's expression shifted from curiosity into amusement. "Quite right, I suppose." He asked, "What brings ye to Paris?"

"My sister-"

"She isn't yer sister, is she?" Bell commented. Before Flynn could retort, he waved the remark aside. "It is an obvious lie if one is aware enough to notice it."

Flynn studied Bell's eyes for a moment. He understood why Doyle used the man as the inspiration for Sherlock. He was quick to pick up details normal people believed without question.

Bell continued, "I also surmised that the names ye shared are not really any of yer names." He cocked his head off to the side. "It begs the question as to why ye'd lie about something as innocent as a name."

Flynn's lips twitched. "Would you believe me if I told you we were here to stop something horrible from happening?"

Bell studied Flynn carefully. "At least, good sir, that would be the truth."

Flynn narrowed his eyes at the man. He kept his mouth shut as the music started to grow. He wasn't sure what to make of Bell. Flynn already didn't fully trust any of the men they were sitting with - Bell especially, since his accent was so familiar to him.

Gaston Leroux turned to Wyatt, a large smile on his face. "Have you seen Christina Nilsson perform before?"

Wyatt shook his head. "Sorry," he started. "I haven't been to the opera before-"

"Oh," the man gasped. "You are in for quite the treat, my friend." He glanced down at the stage. "She's like an angel of music."

Rufus snorted behind them. Wyatt glanced over his shoulder to glare at him. He could see the amusement on Rufus's face but didn't understand the reference.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle sat between Lucy and Rufus. "How do all of you know one another?"

Lucy motioned over to Rufus. "He's a good friend," she stated, then remembered his alias, "and doctor."

"A doctor?" Doyle asked, turning his attention to Rufus. "What field, might I ask?"

"All kinds," Rufus said in a panic.

"Truly?" Doyle remarked. "That is quite the feat for someone of your stature. How did you manage it?"

Rufus started to shake his head, internally telling himself not to say what came out anyway. "It's all elementary, my dear Doyle."

"Fascinating," Doyle replied, puffing on his pipe. "Quite fascinating..."

Rufus felt saved the moment the lights in the opera house began to dim and the music grew louder. Applause erupted throughout the auditorium as they began the show.

The music built and a beautiful woman with long curly brown hair that cascaded down her back and shoulders stepped toward the front of the stage. She wore a lovely white dress with ruching, pink bows lining the back of the dress from her hips to the floor, decreasing in size as it left her hips. The train of her dress looked almost like layers of cakes as it drifted behind her, pooling into a puddle of white fabric against the wooden stage. The collar around her neck blossomed out in delicate pink lace, showing a little of her bosom. Her eyes stared up toward the balcony far away from her as she began to sing her song.

The melody of her voice was entrancing and it brought the team's attention straight to her. She was singing in Italian and Rufus was the only one who didn't know what she was singing about - the loss of her lover who had left for war and his fate was unknown. She was singing with such emotion that even though Rufus didn't understand her, he could feel