The door shut with a small 'click'. The blinds were closed and the room was not quite dark, the lamp on his desk was on, but that was the only source of light in the room. Grissom was relieved. He had a few moments to himself, alone in his office, because his mind was occupied with thoughts of one of his CSI's. There were piles of paperwork to be completed, cases to sign off on, grants to be written, and there was that paper he had contemplated for a while: "The Effects of Imported Fire Ants on the Ecosystem of Southern Nevada", but none of these tasks held his interest at the moment. He was far more interested in where Sara was at this moment. He'd called her cell phone, immediately getting her voicemail; she did not respond to his text message from earlier. He was more than concerned, where was she?

Maybe he should call Greg Sanders or Nick Stokes. He had assigned the three of them a case involving the apparent suicide of a 36 year old man from Henderson found by his best friend when the man had not shown up for work that afternoon. The only reason he'd assigned all three of them to the case, was that it was a very slow shift. Catherine Willows and Warrick Brown were pouring over some cold cases and when the call came in on the apparent suicide, Sara, Greg, and Nick had all volunteered to go, and he allowed them.

Gil Grissom's style of management in his supervisory capacity did not include micromanagement, but the three youngest CSI's had been gone almost all shift on a case that should have taken no more than 4 hours, with one trained CSI, much less than that with three. He quickly decided to call someone, since he couldn't reach Sara. He punched Greg's number on the keypad and waited for a response.

"Greg, this is Grissom." He practically shouted into his phone, over the static he heard through the phone. Seconds later, he stared at his phone, the connection had been severed. He dialed Greg's number again, and immediately got his voice mail. Leaving a quick message, asking Greg to call him when he had a chance, Grissom immediately dialed Nick Stokes' number.

"Nick Stokes."

"Nick, this is Grissom," relieved somewhat because he was actually speaking to an individual as compared to a voice message box.

"What's up, boss?"

"I was checking up in your case and wondering why the three of you hadn't made it back to the lab yet."

"The suicide was a suicide. Little evidence, except a note, seems the guy's wife had left him and he didn't want to live without her. Grego and I stopped to eat and Sara was headed in with the evidence."

"I'll see you later then."

Grissom ended the call and walked to his closed door. There was a slight crash on the other side of his door. He was about to open it when it opened, apparently on it's own, because Grissom didn't see anyone on the other side of the door, until he noticed Sara on her knees, picking up papers and files.

"Sara, let me help you." He quickly bent down beside her and scooped the paperwork up with one hand, and pulling her close to him with his other.

His cell phone began blaring at his side. "Grissom."

"You rang?" The sound of the young CSI's voice momentarily confused him, as he continued to hold Sara close to him.

"Sorry Greg, I talked to Nick already, isn't he with you?"

"Yeah, but you said to call you when I got a chance, so here is the chance." Grissom heard Greg's laughter through the phone. Sara was tightly in his grasp, and he pulled her even closer.

"I didn't really need anything from you. Bye Greg." He closed his phone, handing the spilled paperwork back to Sara. He trailed his left hand to her hip, slightly pulling her to him, leaning in with his head, closing his eyes, he puckered as if to kiss her, when her voice stopped him.

"Grissom, stop. Not at work." She quietly admonished him as he pulled away from her.

"No one can see anything at this angle." He teased her.

"Grissom that doesn't matter. Someone could see us acting unprofessional and then we wouldn't be allowed to work together anymore." Sara stared him down, her eyes locked and loaded for a battle.

"Miss Sidle, I need to see you in my office, now, please." The inflection of his voice changed, and Sara knew that tone. She smiled as he moved slightly to his right to allow her entrance to his office. She brushed up beside him, almost seductively.

"Watch it, Sara. Someone could see something." He said very, very quietly and huskily, as he eased into the room behind her, closing the door. She turned to him and covered his body with hers, their lips meeting with a loud smack. His hands traveled down her back, settling on her bottom. She pulled back from him, breaking their contact.

"You did it again, you know. And you don't have to anymore." She looked up into his blue eyes, confusion settling somewhat.

"What?" Confusion definitely apparent now as his eyes searched hers for answers.

"Everyone knows we're married, almost everyone here attended the wedding. You don't have to call me 'Miss Sidle' anymore. I much prefer: 'Mrs. Grissom'." Sara said exasperated.

"Mrs. Grissom, I missed you. If you are finished with the evidence from the case, then Greg and Nick can write up the case report and we can go home. I believe 'Miss Grissom' and 'Mr. Grissom' will appreciate the two of us getting home on time."

"'Mr. Grissom'?" She questioned.

"Yeah, Bruno Grissom, I believe you've met." His eyes filled with laughter, as he continued, "Alison called me earlier and told me she missed her mommy and daddy, so I thought it would be nice to oblige her."

Sara looked at him incredulously, while smiling at the thought of their two month old daughter.

"Since when do babies make phone calls?"