The Angel And The Devil

Epilouge~ 1 year Later

He's dead.
William Sherlock Scott Holmes is dead.
My Dad.
My my Dad.
Is dead.

I stare awake at the ceiling in the dark. There's a horrid feeling for longing and uncertainty. I close my eyes, but every time I do I see blood and Moriarty.
"Claudette? Are you awake." Asks Uncle John. He pushes open the door anyway.
He sits on my bed and lies next to me. We're  squashed on the bed as it's single but I'm thin and uncle is short.
He holds me.
"I love you Claudette."
He holds me as the sea drowns me and I am smothered.
"Tomorrow you have your session."
The waves way over me. I don't care.

At 11:00 am I am sitting in a large room with a woman called Ella whom is my psychiatrist. 
"How are you today."
I shrug.
"We can sit here for the next 45 minuets." I shrug.
"We've made progress, Claudette. You've spent 3 weeks in your room. Then when you first came you didn't speak nor cry. Now you shrug . You haven't cried yet. Why?"

People are like ink. You are a little dot, you don't want salvation. But Lestrade and Ella and Uncle John try and be like big dots, forking out trying to rescue me.

"It's ok not to be ok." I nod. I know.
"You haven't spoken in a year. Why?" I swallow and shrug.

After I go to Dad's grave. The black marble is clean and the graving still golden. I have a feeling Uncle John comes up here and cleans it during the day.
"Hi." I say. I only speak once a day to Dad. We don't talk about much, only the weather and how much I hate school. How much smarter we are then the teachers. Sometimes I will sit and eat lunch or just sit. I come here during lunch and might fall asleep so I miss the rest of school. On Thursdays (which are my therepy Days) I get the morning off so I don't do to school in the afternoon.
"It's a nice afternoon." I say even though it's quarter to 12. It is. It would be a good time to explode pig brain. "I don't think that's legal." Kill joy.
I unwrap the chicken wrap. Any new cases? "No, Lestrade hasn't turned to us since the case of the Brocken tooth." Yes I did like reading it. "It was better when you were around."
"CLAUDETTE!" I turn around. Dad?
"CLAUDETTE! What are you doing here?!" I spit my chicken wrap everywhere. "Sorry Dad."
Uncle John walks towards me.
"Why are you here?" He glances at the gravestone. "Come here, let's go home."  He puts out his arm. I shake my head. "Come on." Are you going?
"No. I want to stay." Uncle John opens his eyes wide.
"You spoke."
"I could always speak. It's just you guys are all idiots." I say shaking.
"Well Lestrade's got another case. A good one." My eyes flicker to Dad, who is slumped over the headstone. "One your dad would like." Go. Dad says.
"Ok. Let's go."