Felix immediately took the most logical course of action, prioritizing the immediate need for help. He quickly called the police, explaining the situation as clearly as possible, before reaching out to his family to inform them of the unfolding events. He focused on taking the necessary steps.

In no time, the mansion was unrecognizable, swarming with officers and investigators as it transformed into a full-scale crime scene. The atmosphere was now charged with urgency as police scoured every room, every hallway, searching for any clue — no matter how small — that could provide a lead to uncover the truth behind the brutal murder. Each officer moved methodically, their eyes sharp and focused, determined to piece together the mystery that had shattered the mansion's façade.

In much the same way, Felix and his father, the renowned detective Aaron Holmes, began their own investigation, focusing on the two rooms that seemed most crucial to the case — the man's and the woman's. With years of experience guiding him, Aaron led the way, his sharp eyes scanning every corner for subtle signs that might have been overlooked by others. Felix, as a Holmes should, was quick to follow his father's example, and tried to piece together the story hidden within the chaos of the rooms. As they meticulously searched, the tension of the moment pressed in on them, each of them fully aware that the answers they sought could lie in even the smallest, most overlooked of clues.

Unfortunately, in those rooms, there was nothing of any real value to be found, aside from an old, weathered diary. It seemed to be the only item of significance amidst the otherwise barren space. The diary was carefully handed over to Felix, its fragile pages holding the potential for secrets or forgotten memories that might offer insight into the past.

The Holmes family returned home, and as soon as Felix stepped through the door, he couldn't contain his curiosity. He immediately took the diary that had been given to him and began to carefully open its brittle pages. The faint scent of aged paper filled the air as he started reading the first few entries, each word drawing him deeper into the mystery that surrounded the book. The cryptic notes hinted at a story long buried, and Felix's mind raced with questions about what he might uncover within its pages.

" 25 December 2039,

My name is Arthur, and I am the head butler of the Moriarty household. Today, the Moriarty heir was born, but I wasn't allowed to see him. Lord Henry insists on keeping the child a secret for now. He told me he would lock the boy away in a room with his mother, raising him in complete isolation to shape him exactly as he desires. Lord Henry, you see, is a firm believer in pedagogy. He knows that by controlling every external influence, he can mold his son into the person he envisions. To be honest, I feel a deep sense of sorrow for the heir. The reality that awaits him will be a harsh and unforgiving one." 

Felix turned the page, his fingers trembling slightly as he moved to the next entry. The words seemed to bleed onto the yellowed paper, the ink faded but still legible, as if the author's pen had not wavered despite the years that had passed.

"7 August 2040,

A year has gone by, and the boy is growing. Lord Henry's methods are harsh, but they seem to be working. Young Moriarty is a quiet, obedient child, with a mind that absorbs everything like a sponge. There are moments when I see glimpses of something darker in his eyes, though. A coldness, a calculating nature that makes my skin crawl. Lord Henry is proud, of course — he sees it as the perfect result of his efforts. But I wonder, sometimes, if the boy's heart has been hardened beyond repair. Will he ever know how to love?"

Felix's eyes narrowed as he read the passage. The mention of a "darker" nature in the boy intrigued him. Was this the beginning of the man Moriarty would become? The idea sent a chill down his spine.

" 25 December 2044,

Today is Young Moriarty's fifth birthday, but his parents can't be here with him. I'm allowed to see him for the first time today, to give him a cake and sing him a birthday song. Until now, I've only had brief glimpses of his scarlet eyes through the door when I brought meals to his mother. He was always sitting in the dark, so I could never see his face properly, but his eyes… those deep, scarlet eyes always seemed to pierce through the shadows. They captivated me, in a way I can't explain, though they unsettled me too. There was something about them — an intensity, a knowing — that made me feel like this child was already far older, far wiser, than he should be. I can't help but wonder what Lord Henry has truly created in that dark room, hidden away from the world."

Felix's breath caught as he read the entry. Scarlet eyes.

"Like Amelia's eyes…"

The words seemed to echo in his mind. Felix felt a strange chill run down his spine. He knew exactly what the butler was trying to convey. The eyes — those unsettling, scarlet eyes — had a familiarity to them. He had seen that same intense, almost otherworldly gaze before. Diana. She had mentioned it before, her eyes, the way they had looked so similar to the heir's. 

Felix's thoughts began to race. Is that why he tore her eyes out? He whispered the thought under his breath, as if saying it aloud would somehow make the gruesome idea more real. 

"Because they were similar to hers?"

The pieces began to fall into place, though it was a horrifying puzzle. What kind of twisted relationship could exist between the Moriarty heir and his sister? Was there something more sinister in their connection — something that drove the heir to commit such a grotesque act? Felix felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The more he uncovered, the darker the mystery seemed to grow.

Felix's mind raced as the chilling thought settled in. His fingers hovered over the pages, his eyes scanning the entries again. There was no mention of Diana, not a single word. 

"Why isn't any page talking about Amelia?" he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "Isn't she still his sister?"

The question lingered in the air, unanswered. If the heir had a sister, someone who had been close to him, why did the diary remain silent about her? The butler had written about the boy's early years, about his isolation, and even his unsettling nature, but not a word about Diana. Felix's mind began to turn over the possibilities. Had something happened to her? Or had she been erased from the story entirely?

The absence of her name felt like an ominous gap, a space that begged to be filled with answers Felix wasn't sure he was ready to find. Was Diana somehow involved in the heir's upbringing, or had she been a casualty of his father's twisted ambitions? He turned another page, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping to uncover the truth.

" 25 December 2046

Today is the heir's 7th birthday, which we spent together again. We grew closer. Young Moriarty now tells me every single thought in his mind."

Felix paused, rereading the words, a sense of unease settling over him. The butler's tone was unsettlingly casual, as if he was recounting a normal relationship between a servant and a child. But something felt off. The bond between the butler and the heir, especially considering the boy's previous isolation, seemed far too intimate, too familiar. 

Felix couldn't help but wonder: What exactly had they shared during those years? How had the boy changed since that first birthday, when he had been locked away in the shadows? 

But it was the next part of the entry that sent a shiver down Felix's spine.

"She talks about everything," the butler had written, "her dreams, her thoughts, even her darkest desires. And they frighten me."

Felix's breath caught in his throat. Dark desires? Was this the same innocent child the butler had once pitied, or had something far more disturbing taken root in him? The bond they shared had obviously evolved into something far more dangerous, and Felix couldn't shake the feeling that he was only beginning to scratch the surface of a much darker reality.

He continued reading.

"She told me 7 is a lonely number, and that she will be 7 forever."

Felix blinked, his mind racing to make sense to those words, but it was a puzzle he couldn't solve, just yet. Felix had never given much thought to numbers, let alone the idea that one could be defined by a single digit. 

"7?" he repeated, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"I asked her what she meant. She simply smiled, a distant, almost wistful look in her eyes. 'Seven is the number of solitude. It's the one that stands alone, separate from everything else.' Her voice softened as she spoke, as if the number itself held a deep, personal significance."

Felix felt a shiver run down his spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her words than just a random musing. It was as if she was sharing a secret with the butler — one he wasn't sure he was ready to hear.

"Wait." Felix paused, his brow furrowing. "Why is it a she now?"

He glanced back at the diary, his eyes skimming over the lines. The entry he had just read had described the same person as a he — a young man with a quiet demeanor, always somewhat distant. But now, in the same diary, the person was referred to as she. Felix's mind raced. Was this a mistake? Or was something deeper at play?

The words seemed to blur together, the sudden change in pronouns catching him off guard. He quickly flipped back through the pages, but he couldn't find an explanation. The subject, whoever they were, had always been described as he until this moment.

"Did something happen?" Felix murmured aloud, as if expecting the diary itself to answer.

His fingers hovered over the page, the ink heavy with meaning. Had the person changed, or had the writer simply begun to see them differently? And if they had changed, how could they have done so so suddenly, without warning? There was a sense of finality to the shift — an unspoken truth tucked within the lines that Felix wasn't sure he was ready to confront. 

He closed the diary slowly, his mind swirling with questions, but one thing was clear: whoever the subject was, they were no longer the person Felix had first imagined.

Then, Felix realized. He was still a Holmes, after all.

His breath caught in his throat as the pieces finally fell into place.

"The Moriarty heir is a woman," he whispered to himself, the words sounding almost foreign, like a secret that had been hidden for too long. 

The diary had described the heir as a mysterious figure, someone always veiled in shadows and whispers. He had assumed the reference to "he" was merely tradition, a reflection of the powerful family's long-held expectations. But now, as the pronouns shifted, as the tone of the words changed, it became clear that everything he'd believed about the Moriarty heir was wrong. The heir, the one at the center of all those rumors, was a woman. 

Felix's thoughts tangled in the implications. It wasn't just the sudden realization that shook him; it was the weight of the revelation. The Moriarty family, notorious for its influence, its power — its legacy — was now under the rule of a woman. A woman who had somehow remained hidden in the shadows, her true identity obscured by layers of myth and secrecy. 

But why would the diary, and the writer, have referred to her as a man for so long? What was the significance of the shift in pronouns? Felix's fingers tightened around the edges of the pages, a mix of curiosity and dread flooding him. There were questions here that reached beyond this diary — questions that could unravel the very fabric of the Moriarty family's future.

And now, Felix was caught in the middle of it all, uncertain whether he was uncovering the truth or stepping into a carefully crafted lie. Yet, he knew what to do.

He rushed out of his room, his voice strained with urgency as he called for his father.

"Felix, what's going on?" his father's voice came from the hallway, filled with concern.

"We need to go back to the mansion," Felix replied, his words sharp and hurried. "I've figured it out."

His father frowned, confusion crossing his face. "Figured what out?"

Felix glanced back, frustration mixing with his determination. "I'll explain later. There's no time. We need to leave now."

In no time, Felix and his father found themselves standing once again in the eerie silence of the mansion. The police had long since closed their investigation, leaving the place to its shadowy stillness. Felix strode into the house, his steps steady and unwavering as he navigated the familiar terrain. He had known this would be the outcome.