A/N: Just for fun, an extremely silly story. You may have to use your imagination and overlook leaps of logic. This chapter is set in season 4. The song for this story is Grandma Got Run over by a Reindeer by Randy Brooks. No copyright infringement intended.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer,

Walking home from our house, Christmas Eve.

You can say there's no such thing as Santa,

But as for me and grandpa we believe.

She'd been drinking too much eggnog

And we begged her not to go.

But she forgot her medication,

And she staggered out the door into the snow.

When we found her Christmas morning,

At the scene of the attack

She had hoof-prints on her forehead,

And incriminating Claus marks on her back.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

It was a bitterly cold morning in late December, and Seeley Booth was in an incredibly foul mood. It was almost as if he was radiating enough fury to melt the snow that had accumulated in deep drifts around the sidewalk where he stood. The FBI forensic technicians who were canvassing the exclusive neighborhood for clues gave the Special Agent a wide berth as they secured the scene, hoping to avoid his wrath.

"Son of a fucking bitch…', he spat out angrily, talking to nobody in particular. He shivered as he stood with his hands jammed into the pockets of his overcoat. "Bad enough that it's colder than a roomful of ex-girlfriends out here...now I gotta work a murder case on Christmas Eve...and I've got Christmas shopping to do...and I need to have Parker at Rebecca's by five."

His surly grumbling continued as he looked over the crime scene. The body of a petite elderly woman was sprawled out face down in a shallow depression in front of a very large, very expensive looking house. Booth made some mental notes before conferring with the Metro detective who'd made the call to the Hoover. "Look, detective...No way this is any goddamn national security issue, so tell me again why you called the FBI to come out here to take care of something you guys should be able to handle on your own."

Deciding it would be unwise to provoke the large, angry FBI agent, Detective Randy Hewitt tried to be jovial. "It's a high profile case, man… and our station chief hates'm. When I told him who the vic was, he didn't even ask for details...he just told me to call in the cavalry…and here you are..."

Booth was livid, and let the detective know it in no uncertain terms as he shook his finger in the man's face. "So because your supervisor is too fucking lazy to leave his nice warm office, I've got to be out here in this frigid weather, practically freezing my balls off, on Christmas Eve, when I have important things I need to do? Oh, no...I ain't playing that goddamn game. You get the bastard on the phone right now, buddy, or there's gonna be hell to pay! This ain't my jurisdiction and I sure as hell ain't gonna do his work for him…"

"Booth?," Brennan called out as she exited the Jeffersonian's van. "Is everything alright? You seem upset."

He took a deep breath before answering, partly to control his anger, and partly to control his accelerating heart rate. Brennan always had that effect on him…not that he minded all that much, but he was determined to stay angry with the idiot detective standing next to him. "Yeah, I'm fine, Bones. It's just that this fucking joker…Detective Hewitt, here..." He pointed to the man standing next to him. "...called the FBI out to the crime scene because he says his boss didn't want to deal with the cold...nor the publicity surrounding our victim's death. I'm sorry you had to come out in this miserable weather..."

Zipping up her heavy jacket, she shrugged a shoulder as she surveyed the scene. "I don't mind. Because I'm filling in for Dr. Saroyan while she's out of town for the holidays, it's appropriate that I be present as you start your investigation, and, as you are well aware, I prefer to view the body in situ instead of having your techs bringing it into the lab. This way we won't lose as much evidence." She nodded to the man joining her. "Unfortunately, Dr. Hodgins, there may not be much insect activity associated with the remains, given the severity of the cold…"

He grinned broadly as he turned down the ear flaps on his fur lined cap. "On a day like this, those little beauties are looking for a nice warm place to stay, like maybe under the clothing, next to the victim's skin...or possibly even burrowing inside the body. I love playing that kind of hide and seek."

Booth looked like he might vomit at the entomologist's blunt statement. Stamping his feet as he tried to keep warm, the agent pointed at the victim. "What about body temperature and lividity? Isn't the severe cold going to affect how you determine the time of death?"

"Very good question, Booth!" Brennan smiled up at him as she crouched down next to the body. "You've learned quite a bit working with me, haven't you?"

Even as cold as he was, Booth couldn't deny the warm tingly feeling flooding his soul as he considered her compliment. He nodded, trying hard not to smile happily at a crime scene. "Yeah, well...you know, I've picked up a few things here and there." Seeing that the rest of her team had arrived, he turned to the metro detective, who was trying to sneak away from the group.

"Oh no, you don't. You're gonna stay out here at least as long as we do, Detective Hewitt.," Booth said in a low growl. Pointing to the remains, he continued. "You know who this is, right? You said it was a high profile deal..."

"Yeah." Detective Hewitt grimaced as he handed the woman's driver's license to Booth. "This here is Elizabeth Bennington, aged 73…also known as Grandma Bessie or Grandma B..."

"You mean Grandma Bessie...the famous madam? Whoa!" Hodgins whistled softly. "Man…a lot of people are going to be unhappy to hear about this!"

"That's ma-dame, Hodgins," Brennan corrected, emphasizing the proper French pronunciation as she hunkered down to inspect the remains.

Booth shook his head. "No, Bones, it's not ma-dame…"

She quickly interrupted. "Based on her secondary sex characteristics, ma-dame correct…she is most certainly not 'monsieur'..."

Holding his finger up as a warning so that a very confused Detective Hewitt to keep his comments to himself, Booth grimaced as he pointed to a nearby mansion. "It's mad-am, Bones, because she runs...or rather she used to run...a place called The Garden of Eden Gentlemen's Club, which is one of the largest and most popular brothels in the DC area. She was in charge of a major prostitution organization."

"She was a purveyor of sex for pay?" Brennan's brows knit in confusion. "Prostitution is illegal in the District of Columbia. How could her brothel become so popular, and ensconced in such an exclusive neighborhood?" She turned to Detective Hewitt. "And if this is such common knowledge, why hasn't your police department's vice squad shut down her operation? Think about all those women who are being exploited…"

Scoffing at Brennan's seeming naivete, Hodgins shook his head. "It's because it's popular with a lot of Beltway honchos, and they've protected her 'business' for their own purposes. Grandma Bessie's clientele includes some of the best known names in the District...federal judges, senators, professional athletes...and then there's the big shots who come to visit her establishment when they're in town for business. I'm sure there was a lot of cash and political influence spread around to make sure the vice squad left Grandma alone, right, Detective Hewitt? Maybe even your own station chief, right? Maybe that's why he called in the big guns..so he could avoid being involved.."

"Um...er...that is...I don't know." Hearing a text alert, the detective reached for his phone. "My chief wants to know where I am…he needs me back at the precinct..."

"Gimme that!" Booth sent a quick text in response and pocketed the phone. "You can have your phone back when we're finished here, so I'd suggest we speed things along. What can you tell us? Have you talked to any witnesses?"

"Just one so far…Veronica Black." He pointed to a young blonde woman who was standing across the street, obviously feeling the cold as she tugged on the hem of the short red velvet dress she was wearing under her full length mink coat. "She was Grandma's right hand woman…I guess she's in charge of the actual day to day operation."

"Well? What did she say?" Booth was quickly running out of patience. "Remember, Hewitt...you're staying until we're done here…"

Detective Hewitt inhaled sharply. "I think you should talk to her yourself. I'm not sure you'd believe me…"

"Of all the…" Booth clenched his fists, thoroughly aggravated with Hewitt's ineptitude. He grabbed the detective's elbow and pulled him along. "Okay, let's go talk to her…"

Leaving Brennan and Hodgins to their work, the two investigators walked over to speak to the blonde. "Ms. Black?" Booth flashed his badge. "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI. I'd like to ask you a few questions…"

"Well, aren't you a cutie?" She gave him an appreciative glance before batting her eyelashes at him. "You can ask me anything you want, sugar bear, but let's get out of this cold...how about we go back to my place and you can get your answers in a much more personal way…"

"That won't be necessary...thanks." Clearing his throat, Booth tapped his index cards with his pen. "Detective Hewitt said you gave him some information about the incident, so maybe you can repeat it for me, you know, so I can have a first hand account. Did Ms. Bennington have any enemies that you know of?"

"Well, of course, she did...in our line of work there are always rivalries…some sort of cat fight is always brewing." She pretended to wipe away a tear. "But I know who did this...I saw it...and it was no accident. It was a malicious act of violence…"

"Okay, then...who was it?" Booth was trying to be calm, but he could feel his control slipping away. "You wanna tell me what you saw?"

She nodded, licking her lips nervously. "It was horrible...Grandma was walking home from my house...you know, The Garden of Eden Gentlemen's Club…" Veronica pointed to her left. "...to her own house...it's the white one down there on the corner...the one with all the green trim. You should see it in the summer. Her flower beds are gorgeous..."

Booth puffed out a sigh. "Ms. Black...I'd like to solve this case before summer if you don't mind…"

"Oh...sorry." Veronica closed her eyes so she could concentrate. "It was late last night...past midnight, and we wanted her to stay the night at the Club, seeing how it was so cold and snowy out, but she'd forgotten her flask...the one where she keeps her special medicine. The recipe is a secret, but I think it's basically bourbon with a little bit of honey and lemon…"

"MS. BLACK! PLEASE!" Booth glared at the blonde. "Just stick to the point!"

"Sorry." She bit at her nails as she remembered what happened next. "She was staggering a bit, so I watched her to make sure she was okay. I was standing on the front porch and I saw this rotund man in a red fur suit go roaring by on a reindeer…and next thing I know, she was stretched out flat...so I ran back inside to call the police." She swallowed hard, trying not to cry. "It was awful."

"A reindeer?" Booth turned to Hewitt in surprise. "A reindeer?"

Hewitt nodded. "A Reindeer...you know, it's a brand of snowmobile…a motorized sled?"

"Oh...that kind of reindeer. Okay." Booth turned back to his witness, scribbling information on his note cards as he repeated her story. "So you think Santa Claus ran over Ms. Bennington with a Reindeer snowmobile while she was on her way home early this morning, but you didn't actually see him hit her...you're just making an assumption. Got it. Thank you." He mumbled irritated curses as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. "Call me if you remember anything else, okay?"

"Okay." Veronica offered a flirty grin. "Can I call about a date?"

"NO." Turning his back on her, Booth jogged across the street, leaving Hewitt to console their witness, who seemed appreciative of the attention. "Hey, you two...any sign that our victim there was hit by a snowmobile?"

"Maybe…" Hodgins pointed to the back of the woman's jacket. "Look...runner marks…"

"No sign that the driver tried to veer off, right? Whoever it was just smacked into her." Booth scratched his chin as he inspected the smudges. "Hmm...but would that have killed her? I mean, she's a small person, so maybe the impact injured her, but there doesn't seem to be a lot of blood…and her coat is dirty, but not torn..."

"Actually, Booth…" Brennan paused as they turned the deceased onto her back. "...I'm fairly certain she died from blunt force trauma to her head and chest…but from a source other than a snowmobile."

"See? Right here?" Hodgins chortled happily as he pointed to the remains. "These bruises on her forehead and chest exactly match the hoof prints of Rangifer tarandus…" Seeing Booth's confusion, the scientist rolled his eyes. "I know...English, right? A caribou! Otherwise known as a reindeer! The real deal, okay? You know, like Rudolf or Prancer?" He grinned as he held up a tuft of brownish hair which he'd recovered from the victim's coat. "Based on the color of this sample, I'd say the subspecies granti. The big question is why would a reindeer be charging through the suburbs, okay? I mean, they'd be hard to miss in a ritzy neighborhood like this, even in the dark…"

Booth shook his head as he ran through the facts once again. "Our witness said she saw a heavyset man who was riding a snowmobile at a high rate of speed while wearing a red suit. She thinks he was responsible for running over Ms. Bennington. Other than the reindeer hoof prints in the snow and mud, is there anything to suggest it was Santa Claus who did the deed?"

Brennan and Hodgins looked at each other, trying not to laugh.

"Booth…you know Santa Claus isn't real, right?" Brennan giggled as she elbowed the entomologist. "A mythical man can't commit murder…"

"Yeah, right, but maybe someone wearing a Santa Claus outfit could." Booth glared at them angrily before turning back to the victim. "Still...there's not much blood splatter here at the scene...is that because it's so cold?"

"No, I don't think so." Standing up and moving to get a better look, Brennan shook her head. "Hodgins and I both believe the body was moved from the place where the victim died and then, apparently, the perpetrator ran over the corpse to make it look like she'd been hit from behind by a snowmobile."

Hodgins pointed to the snow surrounding them. "See? No caribou hoof prints anywhere in the drifts...just tracks from the snowmobile and also two different sizes of boot prints. Based on the size, I'd say a man and a woman."

"But I don't get it...if there aren't any reindeer tracks out here, where did she get those bruises?"

The three of them stood there for a minute, working out the problem, until Booth turned to check on the detective's progress with their lone witness. After after a few minutes, he grunted softly. "I have an idea." He turned and yelled across the street. "Hey, Hewitt! C'mere…"

The detective trotted over to the trio. "What can I do for you, Agent Booth?"

Pointing to the large building housing the Garden of Eden Gentlemen's Club, Booth cleared his throat softly. "Have you been inside that house within the last two weeks?"

"A house of prostitution?" Hewitt scoffed in disgust. "Agent Booth! I'm a married man!"

"Yeah, I saw your ring. Funny thing...your wedding band seems to match the ring Ms. Black is wearing on her right hand. Don't want folks to think Grandma's 'girls' are married, do we?"

"That's just a coincidence...you can buy rings like ours anywhere…"

Booth nodded. "That's probably true." Seeing Hewitt relax a bit, the agent pointed at the mansion again. "Let's go look in the house anyway…"

"Um...I don't really think that's necessary…" Hewitt began backing away slowly from Booth. "Nothing to see there…"

"Well, I won't know until I take a look myself. After all, you're the one who called me out here, detective, so I need to exercise some due diligence, but you can stay here with Dr. Brennan if you want, I guess." Wiping his hands on the front of his coat, Booth smiled at his partner and the entomologist. "Let's me and you go take a walk, Hodgins, since you know about reindeer. Bones, you keep an eye on those remains…"

"Don't you need a warrant to look inside the house?," Hewitt called after them. "Or probable cause?"

"Nah...we're just gonna take a stroll down the sidewalk here...you know, to look at the snow…"

Hodgins leaned over and whispered quietly to Booth. "We need a warrant to do a search, right?"

"Ssh...we're not gonna set fool on the property if I can help it…" Booth pointed at a nearby snowdrift, waving at it for Hewitt's benefit. "...but we're gonna see if there are any tracks leading from the edge of their property to another property, and if there are, we're gonna take pictures of them and then call in for a warrant."

"OH!" Hodgins' eyes widened as he realized what Booth meant. "You think Grandma Bessie has a caribou stashed somewhere on the grounds of the house…like maybe for a Christmas display? Like maybe to help her patrons get into the Christmas spirit? And maybe it accidentally stampeded for some reason and ran her down? A large reindeer can weigh 400 pounds. That might really inflict some damage on a petite elderly lady..."

"Yeah, something like that...and if there are tracks, we can use them as probable cause so the techs can search for evidence on the property…" He paused as he stooped to look at the sidewalk. "Look...short brown hairs...some droppings...footprints...and the direction of the footprints suggest that they came from that direction." He pointed to the Garden of Eden Gentlemen's Club. "I hope that's enough to get a warrant to look for a wayward reindeer. Let's ask Caroline to call a judge…"

Ooooooooooooooo

A few hours later, Brennan smiled as Booth joined her at their favorite table in the diner. "Were you able to finish your shopping?"

"Yeah...Parker's stuff is wrapped and ready to go. I'll just drop it off when I take him over to Rebecca's." Inhaling the aroma from his coffee mug, he sighed in satisfaction. "I'm gonna miss having him for Christmas morning, but he'll be spending the week between Christmas and New Year's with me, so that sort of makes up for it."

"It's a good thing that you were able to wrap up today's case quickly so you can enjoy your holiday." She took a sip from her teacup and set it aside. "What made you suspect the Metro detective was conspiring with Ms. Black?"

"Oh, I don't know...maybe it's because I'm an exceptional Special Agent." He laughed as Brennan rolled her eyes. "Or maybe it was a bunch of little things...like him saying his chief wanted him to call the feds out to the crime scene. I mean, why do that? I know the fella that runs that precinct...he's a glory hog. He'd want to work a big case like that, especially if he was one of Grandma's patrons...that way he could keep his name out of it. It made no sense to call the FBI."

He paused as their server brought his order. Pouring some ketchup onto his plate, he shrugged. "Hewitt was also real quick to take the word of an eye witness without much corroboration, and when I suggested we look in the house, he about had a heart attack, right? And he was really buddy-buddy with Ms. Black...when he was talking to her by himself, he kept touching her arm and her shoulder, like he knew her, so I began to wonder if they were in it together."

"He was acting in a rather suspicious manner.," Brennan said as she stole a french fry from the platter. "But certainly you must've had more to go on than that flimsy bit of intuition. For example, you touch my arm and my shoulder...even my back from time to time...but it doesn't mean anything, does it?"

He cringed slightly at her casual remark. It doesn't mean anything to you...not yet...but maybe one day…

Sighing softly, he nodded as he stirred some sugar into his coffee. "I did have more to go on than speculation...I had you and Hodgins. See, Hewitt and Ms. Black were hoping the techs who worked the scene would buy the getting 'run over by a reindeer' bit, but they didn't count on me having the best squints in the world on my side. You two figured out the snowmobile hadn't really injured her, right? Anyway, if Hodgins said Grandma's bruises were made by a caribou...then I trust him. They were made by a caribou. And you recognized blunt force trauma without even looking at the skeleton, right?"

"I suppose that's true." She giggled as he waggled an eyebrow at her. "I did manage to work well with flesh, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. Good job, Bones.," he teased. "Anyway, with just a little bit more interrogation, I got Ms. Black to spill the beans when we got her back to the Hoover. I guess they'd kept the caribou in some sort of enclosure at the house…"

"Which is against zoning laws…," Brennan added.

"Yeah." Booth chuckled slightly. "That's not really the point, but...anyway...Hewitt was there one evening, seeing Ms. Black, who happens to be his wife. I guess they argued loudly about one of her 'johns' being too attentive, and the noise startled the animal, and it ran into Ms. Bennington when it escaped. Ms. Bennington, being frail, was fatally injured, so they tried to cover it up with the whole fake snowmobile accident thing."

"It's a good thing we were able to see through their plot, isn't it, Booth?"

He quickly agreed. "Yeah, and the sad thing is that if they'd just reported the accident to begin with, a lot of problems could've been avoided, but they tried to cover it up instead, which led to a whole new set of issues. Believe me, I don't mind giving this case to Metro...let them take care of their own mess, right, Bones?"

"Right."

They chatted over their meals for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company. Finally Brennan coughed quietly. "So...what are you doing this evening...after you take Parker to Rebecca's, that is?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm pretty beat. Being out in the cold all day wears me out. I may just crash in my recliner for a few hours before going to Midnight Mass…"

"I see." She stared into her teacup for a few seconds. "Because I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight. I've got some pasta faglioli soup in my refrigerator...maybe we could watch an old movie on television before you went to church...if you wanted." Feeling somewhat awkward, she shrugged shyly. "But if you're too tired, we can do that sort of thing another time."

Suddenly feeling refreshed, Booth couldn't help but grin. "Well, I'm not that tired. Soup sounds great, Bones, and I'd enjoy the company." He popped a french fry in his mouth. "Thanks for the invitation. I'll be over about six, if that's okay with you."

"I'm looking forward to it...and, by the way...I have a small gift for you."

"I'm looking forward to it as well...and, being the generous guy I am, I have a big gift for you." He chuckled as she eagerly began pumping him for information about her surprise. "You'll just have to wait until tonight."

"I suppose that will be satisfactory." She stole another fry. "Merry Christmas, Booth."

"Merry Christmas, Bones."