A/N: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

Chapter 6

Grissom finished looking at the hotel information packet as Sara stepped out of the bathroom. "Feel better?" he questioned without looking up.

Maybe it was a good thing that he wasn't looking. Sara had exited from taking a shower wearing an antique Harvard sweatshirt and a pair of cut-off shorts and nothing else. Toweling her hair, she walked over to the bed and sat on the burgundy bed spread, cross-legged.

"Much better," came the muffled reply.

"What was that?" Grissom looked up and nearly lost his breath. Even obscured by a towel, she was beautiful.

Sara finished drying her hair and removed the towel. "I said 'much better', I feel much better. A hot shower is just what I needed," she informed him. She looked at him, staring at her. He had the look of a starving man looking at a juicy steak. "What, do I have something on my face?"

"Um, no. I just didn't hear you clearly, that's all," Grissom replied. He was trying hard to keep his libido in check. He started reciting baseball statistics in his head. 'Babe Ruth, lifetime earned run average…'

Grissom's dilemma was lost on the woman sitting on the bed, partially dressed. Sara noticed the informational packet in his hands. "So, did you figure out a game plan? How are we going to get McAllister so that we can question him?"

"Huh?"

He's flustered, Sara thought. Good. "McAllister, questioning, us. Any of that ring a bell?"

"Yeah, I thought that we would go to dinner at Criterion Brasserie. Seems our old friend Mr. McAllister has reservations there. That nice kid at the reception desk called while you were using up all of the hot water and let it slip that McAllister had just had the concierge make dinner plans for him."

"Nice kid," Sara said sarcastically, "more like the nice 10 pound note you gave him. And I did not use up all of the hot water."

"It worked, didn't it? And yes you did."

"Yeah, bribing children. What next, Grissom, gonna steal a lollipop from some baby?" Sara teased.

"No, just going to corrupt a certain young lady I know. You know, take her out for dinner, lavish her with flavored carbonated water and keep her out until the wee hours of the morning."

"Really, what makes you think I want to go to dinner? Maybe I just want to stay in."

"In's good." Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but in won't get us closer to McAllister. Come on, you'll enjoy it. Criterion Brasserie is an excellent French restaurant, the county's paying, they offer vegetarian dishes and it's on Piccadilly Circle. It's kinda like Times Square."

"How do you know so much about London?"

"I was invited to speak before the Royal Entomological Society about 10 years ago, after that summer at Harvard. Spent about a week here."

"So you're an old hand at this tourist thing. Guess I can't beat an offer like this."

"Great, why don't you get dressed and I'll have the concierge make us reservations. "

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute."

Sara got up of the bed, grabbed the towel and then headed towards the bathroom. She stopped just at the barrier, turned her head, looking over her shoulder, and said "Want to look good for my date, huh, Sherlock."

"You always look good, Dr. Watson."

"Dr. Watson? Wasn't he a little big in the belly?"

"You're the one that started with the Sherlock Holmes analogy. You've always reminded me more of Emma Peel."

"The Avengers?"

"Yeah, always thought she filled out that leather suit rather nicely."

"Oh, you are such a…..man!" Sara blurted out and shut the bathroom door with a loud slam.

"Yes, definitely Emma Peel." Grissom smiled as he picked up the phone and made a call.

TBC