A/N: another chapter, sorry for the delay, hope you enjoy it!

There had to be something. There had to be something. There had to be something.

Holmes gnawed distractedly at the side of his thumb as he leant against the wall in the second storey bedroom. He had examined the hinges and the remaining shutter in a kind of detached calm. The hinges were practically rusted through, and when he had, with an amazingly steady hand, tested the second shutter it had wobbled ominously.

An accident waiting to happen.

That's what the police had said when they arrived, and removed…the body.

His knees felt strangely weak, and he let himself slide down the wall to sit on the floor. Whatever strength had seen him deal with the police, escort Edwina to the Hotel Europe and now return back here to examine the window in microscopic detail had deserted him.

There had to be something.

Begin at the beginning.

Arriving back after his afternoon spent with Erin?

No, further back than that, begin at the very beginning…

An old woman had died.

A will had been read.

A young man had argued with his cousin on San Michele.

And Morris had been an…what had Edwina said?

An obstacle to the plan…

Standing, turning to face the window, he felt he was seeing the world through different eyes. A sense of incredible lucidity washed over him, and his gaze swept up and down the frame and torn hinges, not missing a single scratch or blemish in the paintwork.

And then he saw it.

...

'A screwdriver,' repeated the policeman, flatly

'Yes,' said Holmes, unable to contain his irritation as he spoke to what must have been the third separate official to deal with him, 'there was a screwdriver on the floor beside the window in the second storey bedroom,'

'And…?'

'And I think that Daniel Trelawney deliberately loosened the hinges of the shutter, perhaps even pried them away from the frame, in order to let it fall at the precise moment that Morris and I stood underneath. When I examined the woodwork I found evidence of scratches that…'

'So you are suggesting that Signor Trelawney tried to kill you…'

'…I am suggesting that Daniel Trelawney murdered my friend, because he wanted to marry his fiancé…'

'Signor Trelawney's fiancé?'

'No! Morris's fiancé. Daniel Trelawney's cousin.'

'Signor Trelawney wanted to marry his cousin…?'

'…to get hold of his great aunt's estate, if you look at her will I'm almost certain that…'

'...have you seen this will?'

'…well…no, but…'

'…has Signorina Trelawney told you anything that has led you to this conclusion?'

'…well, not in so many words, but if you got her in here then…'

'Signor Holmes,' the policeman said, calmly, 'you have had a terrible experience today. Why don't you go home and try to rest?'

'…But…'

'We are not going to arrest Signor Trelawney on the basis of a screwdriver and some supposition.'

'…But…'

'Holmes?' a strangely melodic voice cut through the fog of his frustration, and he turned to see a familiar figure coming out of a door at the back of the police station.

'Erin?' he said, his voice barely registering surprise, emotionally drained as he was.

'Holmes! It is you! What are you doing here?'

'I…well…' he stuttered, trying to find appropriate words,

Erin took his arm

'Come on,' she said, 'let's go and get something to eat.'

She said something over her shoulder to the policeman in Italian. Holmes thought vaguely that he might have caught the word for 'father', but he couldn't be certain.

...…..

'Do you believe me?'

Erin took another sip of coffee before answering

'It is…plausible, Holmes, but…'

'…no concrete proof,' he finished for her, 'nothing to stand up in a court of law.'

'It is no more than a theory, after all.'

'But do you believe me?

'I…'

Erin was clearly uncomfortable at the question, but there was something else in her manner that seemed slightly distracted.

'It doesn't matter,' said Holmes morosely, placing his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. Through a gap in his fingers he glimpsed Erin sneak a look over towards another table in the café, before she leant across the table to take his other hand

'I believe you,' she said quietly.

Holmes made no reply, but raised his head again, this time looking in the same direction Erin had. He found his gaze met by that of a late middle aged man about 3 tables away. The man was making no effort to disguise the way he was staring straight at their table.

When he looked back at Erin, she seemed even more disquieted

'Let's go,' she said, 'I need to stretch my legs.'

'You know,' Holmes said, 'I still don't know your real name.'

'And I still don't know your first name,' she retorted, 'Are you going to fetch my coat?'