Dear diary,
I heard about it, I was told about it. My father is really alive, and he is really James Moriarty. Sometimes you have to be told by someone else to really understand fully that it is real, nothing can prepare you for hearing the truth from someone else, other than the voice in your head.
One thing is for sure, Moran knows he is my father. Whether Alina mentioned it or he recognised the similarities between me and dad are far from ever being 100% certain. Now that she knows she will never let it go, let alone me now knowing. It is impossible to ascertain when she actually knew. Whichever way, she told me and that is all that seems to matter right now.
Whenever I get to meet dad is another story, hopefully, I will get to meet him sooner rather than later. I just know that she hates me to the point she would kill me. She sees the looks across the room that I and Moran share, his protective nature over me, he always wants me by his side rather than her. It gets annoying sometimes - her jealousy. I just wish she would leave me alone.
It's like those kids in high school when they get bullied for being the different one. I am the different one in this situation and I cannot say that I do not hate it. When mom left the other evening, I went into her room. I found documents and letters, different things. I figured I should share them with someone, perhaps I should not, I will leave them at the end of this diary entry. I copied the letter up that she must have never sent or must have had sent back to her by my dad, James.
To James,
It has been far too long for me to not try and write to you. Our daughter is now 15 years of age, I cannot keep lying to her over and over, telling her I do not know you. I keep hoping one day you will read these letters instead of doing what you always do and ignore them.
Look, she asks me where her father is daily and I cannot stop wishing you would come and meet her, let her see who he father is, rather than going around chasing Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. You need to stop and think about the child you have left behind.
You are her fa--
( P.S. The end of the letter was torn off at the bottom.)