A/N: thanks for the reviews everyone, apologies for the delay updating. I'm a bit bad at descriptions as you may have gathered, so I do sort of 'broad strokes' and leave the rest for you to fill in, but I'll try to get a bit more detail here...

Holmes gazed morosely at the city on the grey horizon. He was sitting in the wooden boat that had brought the body of Lucinda Trelawney to San Michele – Venice's cemetery island. Although he had accompanied the others this far, he had not gone to the funeral. He felt incredibly awkward – a perfect stranger intruding on Edwina and Daniel's grief. Something made him shy from setting foot on the island itself, so he had chosen to remain on the boat and wait for the others to return.

For some reason his thoughts kept drifting to Erin Aquilla. She had barely spoken a word in the boat back to the hotel the previous night, and he had seen no sign of her at breakfast that morning. And then, after breakfast, Edwina had insisted that they check out straight away, saying that her aunt would have wanted them to stay in her house…

…suddenly Holmes became aware of voices coming from the stone jetty above where the boat was moored…

'Daniel, I…'

Edwina's voice was filled with something very much akin to horror,

'I can't believe you could even suggest such a thing…We've just buried her, and you…'

'Very well, forget I even…'

'…you're my cousin!'

'…If it's good enough for royalty…'

'…and what about Morris?'

'Have you told him?'

'No, no, not yet, I… Daniel, we've been friends for as long as I can remember, I don't want to hurt you, but…'

'Forget I ever said it.'

There was the sound of swift footsteps on stone as Daniel walked away, then the sound of Edwina crying softly. Trepidation and puzzlement swirled in Holmes' mind, but puzzlement and some sort of basic empathy won the day, and he stood up in the boat and climbed the steps to the jetty platform.

……

'Oh, Sherlock…' Edwina sniffed, 'I'm sorry, I…'

'You don't need to apologise,' said Holmes, as kindly as he knew how,

'You didn't hear…?'

'Hear what?'

'Oh, nothing…'

'Is Morris coming?'

'Yes, he just had to get some…papers…from the…'

The sobs started up once more. Holmes patted her on the shoulder, wishing himself anywhere else, but preferably back in Oxford. But that same curiosity which he could almost hate himself for was nagging at him, especially after the conversation he had overheard…

'Daniel seems to be taking everything rather…hard,' he remarked,

'Oh Daniel…' Edwina exhaled, 'Daniel is a …he's a...fool. If he knew me at all then he'd know that I…'

'That you…?'

'I never thought that money would matter so much to him…'

'Edwina…' Holmes asked, tentatively, 'was there something…unusual about the will…?'

'Hah!' snorted Edwina, 'unusual! Yes! You could say that!'

'Something about Daniel? Something about…you?'

'I…' Edwina seemed to be torn as to whether or not to reveal anything else, 'I…It is the oddest thing… The solicitor said that…' she broke off suddenly

'Yes?'

'Not now, Morris is coming…'

Morris had indeed just emerged from the gate of the cemetery. Holmes pulled away from Edwina, and called

'Hello there! Ready to head back?'

'Absolutely…'

……..

'Miss Aquilla?'

The young woman turned to face him, and smiled in recognition:

'Mr Holmes… I looked for you at breakfast…'

'We must have missed each other.'

'Indeed,'

Holmes fought to remember exactly what he had planned to say…

'So the whole of Venezia offers nothing to equal the charms of the reception at the Hotel Europe' she asked, leaning her head to one side,

'Excuse me?'

'Have you been sitting here all morning?'

'No! I…er…' he recalled the story he had told Morris and Edwina as an excuse to return to the hotel 'I left my…diary…here.'

'I see. And you have now retrieved it?'

'What?'

'Your diary.'

'Oh yes.'

'And do you have any urgent appointments this afternoon?'

'Um…'

'Do you need to check your diary?'

'No...'

'No you don't need to check your diary or no you don't have any urgent appointments this afternoon?'

'No…I have nothing planned…except…'

'Except?'

'I had…wondered… That is, if this isn't too presumptuous…'

For the first time in their conversation she didn't interrupt him,

'…I wondered if you might join me for lunch?'

She smiled with tight lips that hinted at suppressed laughter, but didn't say a word.

'Forgive me, I know we are complete strangers, and…'

She held up a finger to silence him

'Just let me check my diary.'

……………

'Not what you expected?' smiled Erin, daintily picking up a slice of pizza in her fingers and taking a small bite

'Well, not exactly…' admitted Holmes, 'this is quite….unconventional, Miss Aquilla…'

'…Erin, please…'

'…Erin, then, I had imagined perhaps a restaurant…But this…'

He turned to look once again across the water, where the tower of St Mark's square and the domes of the Basilica were visible next to the Byzantine splendour of the Doge's Palace. They were sitting on a rug on the piazza outside the church on the small island of San Giorgio. Their pizza, bought from a pizzeria on Giudecca, was fast going cold, but somehow he didn't feel particularly hungry.

'How's your friend?'

'Morris?'

'Yes, and his fiancé?'

'The funeral was this morning.'

'How did her aunt die?'

Holmes was slightly taken aback at the directness of the question.

'You know… I don't know,' he said, 'old age, I suppose…'

'How old was she?'

'Again, I don't know… I barely know Edwina really, it's Morris I'm friends with…'

'…it doesn't matter…'

'No, but…'

'But?'

'But there's something odd about the whole affair… Edwina's cousin, another nephew of the old woman…he's been acting very oddly… Ever since they heard what was in the will…'

'Ah, the will! Well, that would be it, wouldn't it?'

'Excuse me?'

'Money. What everything comes down to in the end. She probably left it to the church or something. That would annoy them….'

'Edwina's not like that…'

'I thought you said you didn't know her? Most people are like that, when it gets right down to it.'

'There are more important things than money,' said Holmes

She looked up from wiping her fingers on her handkerchief, leaving bright red tomato smears on the white linen,

'I only said most people,' she said, softly.