I gazed at the grave, willing it not to be true. It couldn't be true. I didn't believe that my father was dead. I was still staring at the gravestone, when I was interrupted by footsteps behind me. Even before he came into view, I knew that it was Dr Watson.
"Hello John." I murmured.
"God, it's creepy when you do that. You're exactly like him." John glanced at my face, so I hastily wiped the tears from my cheeks.
"What do you mean? Sorry for crying! Honestly, Cameo, it's not your fault. Your father is dead, I think people would expect you to cry." John said, staring at me with disbelief.
John changed tactic and smiled at me instead, I tried to smile back, but my emotions didn't stretch far enough. I sat on the grass next to my father's grave. John was wrong. It was my fault. I killed my father. Well, I didn't exactly kill him. I was sat on the roof when it happened, and I also suggested it. It was the only way for him to disappear without John following him. He made me promise not to tell John anything, and act as if he was really dead. When he needed me, he would tell me. I didn't really believe that he would need me, he never needed anyone's help. He only had John and Mrs Hudson for all his dirty work. But he did promise.
I snapped back to the present moment, to see John placing my father's detective hat on the gravestone. John stepped back, blessed the grave, and walked away.
I stood up and traced the letters of the grave with my finger.
"Sherlock Holmes." I muttered.