1Anatomy of a House

written by lasloneitaliana

House/CSI fanfiction

Genre: Mystery, Suspense, Romance, Comedy

Letter from author: I am so happy to finally get this going. It is a great honor to have everyone reading my stories. Also, I would like to thank InusDarkAngel, my friend since 7th grade, because she helped me formulate some wacky ideas. We brainstormed together. Thank you InusDarkAngel!

-lasloneitaliana

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or House. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfictions.

Thank you so much for all of the reviews. I greatly appreciate them! I will not reveal if I am a Cameron or House shipper or a Grissom/Sara shipper...it will keep you guessing. The rating might change a bit because of the symptoms House develops along the way...Certain rather...embarrassing symptoms.

...do I have you stoked yet? Read more to find out!

"Who am I? Come on! Guess."

"You're a CSI level two who's about to be put on decomp for a month." Gilbert Grissom, supervisor of the Las Vegas crime lab threatened. Greg Sanders, a CSI level two in training for a promotion, thought ahead to how his stomach would handle human decomposition.

"No, I am a CSI level two who just wrapped the case." He was so sure of himself that Gil Grissom knew there had to be a flaw in the work. No CSI should be completely certain that everything in the case was exactly the way it should be, perfect, without any mistakes. Should they? Greg was shifting from foot to foot after handing Grissom his case file. Anxious about how he would be graded.

This was Greg Sander's time to shine. A time for him to show his boss that he was the man, that he was the bomb, that he was the one that they could count on one hundred percent when someone was out sick or when someone needed a reference about a wonderful CSI named Gregory Sanders. Someone who they would write down in the newspaper, someone who they-

"This is great, but it doesn't prove motive." Grissom interrupted, breaking Greg out of his glorious daydream of having his name on a plaque.

"What?"

"What you're showing me here is just a bunch of information about how he killed him." Suddenly, Nick Stokes walked by, smirking at the thought of how Grissom was teaching Greg a lesson, just like he'd done to him when he was a level two.

"But I thought motive wasn't any of our business. I thought..." He trailed off knowing that his wonderful 'happy' feeling was now quickly vanishing. Clouds were moving in over his head and the rest of the day would be 'a load of crap.'

Without another word and knowing that he'd failed, Greg snatched the folder out of his boss's hand and turned on his heel to walk back down the hallway.

Grissom smirked and watched the level two walk down the hallway. He would need to teach him how to check his work over and over again. Actually, his case had been fine, but something in Gilbert Grissom drove him to keep from promoting Greg.

A few hours later, just as he Grissom was remembering he'd missed lunch and dinner, his cell began ringing and he answered it. It was Conrad Ecklie.

Yeah...

Grissom was concious of his messed up pepper gray curls, his wrinkled baggy clothes and the darkend circles under his eyes, but he didn't mind whatsoever.

The doorknob was icy could in his grip, matching the personality of the man who resided in this very office.

"Hello Grissom." His voice was sly and made Grissom feel slightly annoyed. Grissom sighed tiredly, "Hello Conrad. What may I help you with? Someone you want me to fire? A case you want reopened? A case you want me to close that's not finished yet?" Grissom's smart allecky comment did not bother the dayshift supervisor, besides, he'd treated his collegue the same way anyways.

"Actually, I wanted to invite you here to discuss a certain upcoming event."

Conrad Ecklie sat back in his large black chair feeling like some sort of god. His sly smile made most an irritated sensation, while most people where behind his back writing things on the stalls of the bathroom doors like:

For a good time call 342-9876

Ecklie's phone home number added for extra good measure. Personally one of Warrick's favorite pranks of all times.

Grissom snickered remembering the event. While Ecklie began speaking, Grissom poured himself a glass of water, knowing that more caffine would not do him any good at all.

"I heard through the grapevine of a certain marriage taking place soon." Ecklie chided.

Grissom sipped the Arctic cold water slowly, cherishing each sip as it cooled his insides and wet his dry, course lips.

"Marriage, Conrad?"

"Yes. Of two certain workers here. I believe they belong to you."

"Belong, Conrad?" Grissom was testing him.

"Yes. They work for you I believe." Ecklie was leaning forward on his desk, almost as if whispering his life's secret to his worst nemesis.

"Marriage is a basic fact of life. If what you are trying to describe is a group involvement, such as for friends and family, well, that's called a wedding."

"Exactly."

Grissom sipped his water once more, knowing what Ecklie wanted.

"Well? Am I invited? I mean, do I get to come? It is for collegues, right?" Ecklie shook his head and made Grissom smile.

"Conrad, you're the boss of dayshift. You broke up the team a year and a half ago, you made the bride and groom-to-be angry, you almost fired the maid of honor, you postponed the finding of the once buried Best Man, and you even wanted the flower girl to leave the building because she was a child. Conrad, I don't think anybody likes you. You're like the Darth Vader of this office building, except you're not my father and my love interest is not my sister."

Trying to not let his jaw fall slightly, Ecklie smiled slyly once more as Grissom stood up and decided to leave this man in his misery.

"So, I guess that would make you Jabba the Hut then. You're fat, ugly, and the rest of your followers are mutant pigs."

Grissom smiled, knowing that Ecklie's come back was in now way as good as his own.

"No, I think I'm Luke." He shook his head, assuring not only himself, but Ecklie that he was the "good" guy.

Grissom swung open the door, smiling along the way.

"Oh, Grissom?" Ecklie called, catching Grissom just before the night shift supervisor could secretly pat himself on the back. Grissom turned and looked at the man.

"Don't think I don't know about the other wedding."

"Other wedding, Conrad?"

Well, there went that pat on the back.

"The other wedding. The one I'm not supposed to know about?" Ecklie was up by one stroke now, and had Grissom at his throat.

"Oh, that one..." Grissom said.

"You mean, the other one you're not invited to either?" He raised his eyebrows and before Ecklie could work his improvisation skills at come backs, Grissom had vanished, knowing that when he got home that night, someone would give him more than just a pat-on-the-back.

Just as Gil Grissom pulled into the driveway of his townhouse, he had started to break out into a sweat that had dampened his brow and his clothes. He wiped his forehead and got out of the car, before locking it up with a bonafide "beep", and his field kit at his side.

When the door opened, was met with a hug that warmed him up from the inside, out. The tall brunette was holding a remote control and had matching darkening circles under her eyes like Grissom.

"How are you feeling?" He asked his 'love interest', Sara Sidle.

"Better..." Her voice came raspy and short and she coughed, making as disgusted face as she hacked up phlegm.

"Spit it out in the toilet."

Sara nodded and disappeared behind a corner on the other side of the room. Grissom waltzed over to his cd player, popping in some Frank Sinatra. As Sara came out to join him, Grissom took notice to how beautiful she looked-err...besides the red nose, cheeks, and messy hair. She was dressed in nothing but a long t-shirt that fell just above her knees. "You look beautiful."

"Oh, Gwissom...I'm nob in da mood. I hab a cold, you look tired, and all I wanted to do was watch a movie." She looked exhausted, and he couldn't blame her.

Not wanting to catch what she had, he walked to her, and gave in. He cupped both hands on the back of her neck, under her ears, and kissed her forehead.

"Whab to do you want to eat?" She asked him after he had kissed her. She walked to the couch and he loosened his tie, while shutting off the music.

"Anything you haven't touched." He teased.

She wiped her nose and picked out a DVD. "Your pick. Romeo and Juliet or Sleepless in Seattle?"

Grissom was in the kitchen now, pouring himself some Life cereal. "Romeo and Juliet." He announced.

"Sleepless in Seattle it is!" Sara shouted to him, as she popped the DVD in.

Grissom joined her on the couch and after a few bites of his cereal, he got up to put it in the sink.

"How cumb you're not eating?"

Grissom felt a sharp pain sear through his stomach. He winced and sat back down on the couch.

"Haven't been feeling good, probably caught it from your Biohazard side of the bed."

She smacked his leg and curled up to lay on his chest.

"I lub this movie." She said.

Grissom wasn't sure what that sharp pain was that had seared his chest. It had felt like a heated stoke had been inserted through his chest. The rest of the night was peaceful though. Sara had nestled on his chest, and Grissom had passed out in sleep, work clothes and all.

But Gil Grissom did not know what that terrible pain was, even after it had seared through him the following morning, only that it had been a terrible pain that was bringing him, the strong, sometimes cold hearted nightshift supervisor...to his knees.

Thanks a million for the reviews! I love them so much! I'm writing this at 12:30 in the morning because I couldn't stop thinking about writing this! I will try to update when I get up tomorrow...er...today..Thanks again!

grissomsblueorbs/lasloneitaliana

P.S. I changed my penname from grissomsblueorbs to lasloneitaliana back to grissomsblueorbs...sorry for the confusion!

-grissomsblueorbs