Disclaimer- I don't own CSI, do you MissGriss? No? Well, it's settled then.
Summary- A murder mystery weekend could lead to more than a little dress-up for Grissom and Sara... or should we say-- Mr and Mrs Godfrey?
A/N- It is such silliness, but the best possible kind.
Sara warily stared up at the intricately designed oak door.
This was it.
She wasn't just looking at a piece of solid timber anymore; this signified the beginning of a weekend filled with possibilities. She and Grissom would be staying at this magnificent, yet somewhat creepy, manor house for the next two nights and in that time anything could happen.
Of course, she wasn't holding her breath over the thought that he might do something about their obvious mutual attraction. And the fact that Nick, Greg and Hodges would be staying at the same hotel would probably stop him from even looking her way.
Deciding the meaning of life (or, at the very least, the meaning of Grissom) would not be found within the knots of the wood, Sara knocked loudly. Her weekend would begin as soon as she set foot inside the Ballory Towers and she was ready.
As Sara waited patiently for a response, she noticed that it wasn't just the name of the place that instilled an irrational fear. The malevolent looking gargoyles that stood atop the mansion were enough to scare any sane person away at first glance.
Sara was glad when the door opened and she was ushered inside.
The man, she could only assume was the butler, took her bag and coat before scuttling away. As she took in the sight of the grand lobby her jaw dropped in amazement. It was, by far, the nicest place they had ever been sent to under the guise of a team-building exercise.
The sprawling manor house, though slightly gothic in architecture, was beautifully decorated in a style reminiscent of the 1920's. The staircase, which served as the focal point of the room, was every bit the movie cliché as it spiralled around the welcoming area. As Sara surveyed the room her eyes fell upon Grissom who stood alone, looking as bemused as she felt.
"This is crazy, huh? I feel like I've stumbled back in time."
"I think that's kind of the point, Sara." Gil responded, trying his hardest not to sound condescending, but naturally he failed.
"I'm going to ignore your tone, seeing as you're only trying to conceal the fact that you love this type of bonding exercise." She told him, her words dripping with sarcasm.
"It would make sense if it was the entire team, but I'm stuck with the three Stooges and..." he gave a small smirk before continuing, "...a smart ass."
"Where are the guys? I would have thought they'd be here by now." Sara said ignoring his comment.
Before Grissom could reply the butler returned with an important looking elderly woman in tow.
"Good evening Mr and Mrs Godfrey. I am Hector, your host for this weekend and this is Lady Hamilton. I trust you had a pleasant journey."
"Yes, but I think you have us confused. I'm Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle, we're from the Las Vega s crime lab."
"Yes, I know all that. Have the rest of your team arrived yet?" he asked as he spun around to scan the room. The large front doors flew open to reveal Greg, Nick and Hodges.
"Wow, cool digs man. I wonder if they've got pay per view." Greg exclaimed on his way over.
The team greeted each other and all the necessary introductions were made.
Ten minutes later they were all being led to the drawing room for a welcoming drink.
The hotel staff mingled with guests as everyone familiarised themselves with the surroundings. Along with their drink, each guest received an envelope which they were instructed not to open.
Grissom started to approach Sara from his lurking spot beside the bar, but before he reached his destination the room was plunged into darkness and a scream pierced through the air. Panicked voices called for flashlights and candles until, just as suddenly as it had gone off, the light returned to reveal Lady Hamilton lying on the floor.
Everyone gaped at the body.
Grissom rolled his eyes while Nick hid a grin. Sara stared at her supervisor, realising he was a lot closer to her than before the blackout. Greg and Hodges keenly took notes on the situation.
"Well, if you would like to follow me..." Hector interrupted, twiddling his moustache as he stepped over the suspiciously 'blinking' corpse, "I will show you all to your rooms. And from now on, you will only be known to each other as the names written on your envelopes."
Their luggage appeared to have spirited itself out of the entrance hall and into their respective rooms. The wary group followed their eccentric guide up the impressive spiral staircase, some fearful and others annoyingly excited, as to what would come next.
Several minutes passed as they made their way to the top of the hotel, where apparently Greg and Hodges would be sharing a poky twin bedroom. The décor was sparse and plain, wrought-iron bedsteads and off-white eiderdowns. It looked almost like it was---
"Servant's quarters!" Bellowed Hector, "Thompkins the stable hand, you'll sleep by the window."
Greg was roughly directed towards his bed.
"Madison the cook's assistant, you'll be closest to the bathroom. Believe me, after taste testing Monsieur Levade's culinary creations; you'll be in dire need of it!"
Hodges threw Hector a look of pure terror, and over in his corner, Thompkins scowled.
"You'll find your uniforms in the closet, and you will not be needing those," the butler shrilled, pointing towards their bags. "I expect you promptly in the parlour room at 7pm for preliminary assessment of the murder. Do not touch anything! Do not sit down anywhere! You are the hired help."
Sara suppressed a giggle.
"Alright, onwards to better things!" Hector declared before leading the others out of the room, and leaving a bemused pair of team members in his wake.
"See y'all later," Nick grinned.
Sara could only imagine what her room would be like. She sent up a quick word to God, praying that there would be no obligatory chamber pot. However, it turned out that the opinionated Texan would be their next drop off....
"Lord Barkley, owner of Ballory Towers!" The butler exclaimed, before leading them into the master bedroom on the third floor.
It was vast and well-decorated with portraits covering the walls and a large chandelier hanging from the centre of the room. A mammoth four poster bed, complete with velvet drapes occupied the majority of space, lending a little to the antique clothes trunk, blazing fireplace and sizeable armoire.
"Hell yeah!!" Nick yelped, running across the room to investigate his wardrobe. "This stuff is way better than what I brought. It's a damn shame there's no Stetson though."
"It's not the wild west," Grissom mumbled, slightly peeved that his subordinate had apparently won the star role in this little farce.
"Your wife, Lady Barkley was one Ms. Catherine Willows who apparently was unable to attend," Hector eye-rolled. "Therefore for the purposes of this weekend, you will be widowed."
Sara really did laugh aloud at this.
"Nick married!" she gasped, placing a hand on the oversized bed post. "That's almost as funny as him being real gentry!"
The butler, fulfilling his role to unmitigated extremes, looked disdainfully at the hysterical Miss Sidle.
"Do not speak ill of the dead. Lady Barkley was a rare treasure and is-of course- sorely missed by all," Sara bit her lip as he continued. "Now, we must leave the master of the house to his afternoon rest before diner at 6pm—"
"But you told Greg and Hodges, to meet us in the parlour," Lord Barkley interrupted.
"The servants eat much later, in the kitchen, after they have done the washing up," Hector replied nonchalantly. "If you need anything at all sir, just ring the bell on your night stand."
Grissom and Sara were ushered out the room by the butler's brisk hand movements, and they heard Nick's little whoop of joy as the heavy door slammed shut. A few moments later they found themselves on the second floor where they passed another bedroom, which was left un-entered.
"That was going to be Mr Warrick Brown's room... he also could not be present," the butler's eyes narrowed suspiciously with this comment. "Mr. Brown would have been Professor Alfonz, a guest from the South Americas. But never mind, we will muddle through."
At the end of the hallway, Hector came to a flamboyant halt outside a set of wooden doors, which he proceeded to fling open with equal fervour.
"Mr and Mrs Godfrey, the newly married niece of Lord Barkley and her rich banker, husband," he paused for breath. "New money made in stocks and shares, which accounts for your wife's rather substantial wardrobe and jewellery collection."
Sara's jaw hit the floor.
"I thought this marriage thing was a joke!" She whimpered, looking from Grissom to the queen-sized bed covered in rose petals, and back again.
"I assure you, Mrs Godfrey. Here at Ballory Towers... we are always deadly serious," the butler remarked, twirling away again at his laughable facial hair. "Sally the maid to help you dress for dinner."
Grissom appeared to be a little slow on the uptake, as he often was with all things concerning Sara.
"Where will I be sleeping?" He asked.
"This was the 1920's," Hector said matter-of-factly. "It was perfectly acceptable for couples to share a bed."
Their exuberant guide, swept from the room and they were left behind, swimming in a sea of highly charged silence. Sara's mind was running on over drive.
Two nights with Grissom, as his wife, solving a murder dressed in a rayon shift dress and pearls?
Mrs Godfrey sighed, and then frowned when her eyes fell upon their matching bath towels.
TBC