It's December, it's nearly Christmas, so it's time for my annual attempt at making a shipper Parody of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas' by Clement Clarke Moore. We all know this wonderfully classic poem, but only some of you know I'm insane enough to warp it every year. This year it's Caskett who get the Christmas treatment, and I'm also planning a Mentalist one as well.

Twas The Night Before Christmas - Castle Style

Twas the night before Christmas, and with his head on the desk

Rick Castle was abandoning a scene most grotesque.

There was snow on the window, all New York was still

It just wasn't the season to write out a kill.

Alexis was nestled, fast asleep in her bed

Exhausted, excited and very well fed.

And Martha with wine which had spilled on the couch

A festive nightcap turned to a drunken slouch.

Tape, bows, sprinkles and gift wrap galore

Was abandoned til morning all over the floor

Castle stepped over them, trying not to slip

Christmas was no time to require a new hip!

The gifts had been wrapped, placed under the tree

And come morning would be shredded with festive glee.

The teenager would dally, savour the moment

Her father would plough through, excited for presents.

Though Christmas is for love, and for love he would wait

This was no season for teasing and hate

For the season alone they would be honest and straight

and yes, he was talking about a detective called Kate.

Each Christmas that passed he made one single wish

To speak out the words he'd this year dared publish.

One dedication, that came from his heart

A way for the future he dreamed of to start.

Now he had printed it, then maybe she'd see

He wasn't the player he'd lead her to believe.

But when it came to Ms Beckett, his heart was too shy

So he sighed, made his wish, and looked to the sky.

More snowflakes were falling, much like the morn

He'd first seen her face and these feelings were born

Christmas was for family, and she'd become part of theirs

She should be with the Castles, the Rogers, upstairs.

But a knock on the door interrupted the plea

And to the front door he started to flee

His drunken mother didn't stir, his daughter didn't wake

He flung open the door and his hands started to shake.

There she was, brown hair spotted with snow,

With her breath coming fast and her cheeks aglow.

She run up the stairs, the elevator broken

Was she shaking too, or was she just frozen?

He ushered her in, and then noticed the book

From which her fingers she wouldn't unhook

She held it against her, a lifeline she'd created

And spoke out some words he'd long contemplated.

"Did you mean it?" she asked. "Was it true, what you wrote?"

His answer got jumbled and stuck in his throat.

Just moments before he'd wished at the window

And now she was here, courage hid deep below.

He had no words to speak, a Christmas disaster

From the look on her face, not just his heart was beating faster.

He leaned forward slowly just incase she'd dismiss

But she welcomed and embraced their first real kiss.

The book in her hands had fallen to the floor

But neither cared for manuscripts anymore

This Christmas was theirs, this moment their own

Their hearts and their arms created a new home.

The pages of Passionate Heat were not only fiction

Just as depicted in the heart felt dedication.

The one he'd dared brave under seasonal cheer

Forgetting the trembles, the panic, the fear.

As the snow fell around them and midnight chimed in

The words had ensured a good Christmas would begin.

"To my dearest KB, this Christmas it's true,

These words, and my heart, are devoted to you."

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL! LOVE YOU ALL!