Okay, just as a note, I do not own anything, except for my own characters. Duh. If I did, Moriarty would still be alive. Also, I am All-American, so excuse me if I make any mistakes. TO THE STORY!
Emelia
I had been taking a walk through the park that Dad had told me he'd first heard of Sherlock Holmes, aka, Father. The summer breeze was cool on my skin as I breathed the London air. There were couples and children, mothers and fathers, friends and study groups. School had started already, and Dad had been complaining about traffic on his way to work. Father rarely talked anymore, ever since...
Anyways, as I was walking, I naturally payed no attention to my surroundings. I ran into someone. My school books flew out of my hands, as papers fluttered to the ground.
"Whoops, sorry. Guess I should've watched where I was going," I said, embarrassed because people were staring now.
"Nah, you're alright. It's my fault," a cool voice replied. I glanced up and standing there wasa boy about my age, 15, squinting down at me.
"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" he inquired. I analysed his face, seeing if I recognized him. I drew a blank. "Wait, no, I do! You're the daughter of my uncle. I'm Jonathan Lestrade-Holmes. You must be Emelia Watson-Holmes. Pleased to finally meet you."
Sorry about such a short chapter. I'm very sleepy right now, and I need to finish homework. I will try and make the next chapter longer. I might post another story/poem before going to bed. Bye!