Disclaimer: CSI is not mine.
Summary: The Graveyard shift has a costume party in honour of Halloween. (To avoid any logistical issues, I've decided to set the story before the debacle of the team getting split up)
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"Catherine, for the last time, no." Gil Grissom removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he looked up at his coworker, who, for the past ten minutes, had been trying to convince him to attend the annual Halloween party being thrown by the graveyard shift.
Catherine sighed, "Why not, Grissom? It'll be fun."
Grissom shook his head, "You know I hate parties. As you said, I'm not good with people."
Catherine leaned over the desk. "Look, It will do you some good to get out of your inner sanctum for a while. Besides you have to at least show your face."
Grissom looked up at her, "I've made a good record of not attending a single party since I joined this office, why should I start now?"
"You weren't always a supervisor Gil. Making public appearances is part of the job."
"I didn't attend last few, since I became supervisor." Grissom pointed out.
Catherine shrugged, "Think of it as a chance to turn over a new leaf. You've always said, the most important human quality is the capacity to change."
Grissom paused. He had said that. Count on Catherine to throw his own words back at him. By the look in her eyes, Grissom knew that Catherine wasn't going to let this issue go. He was tempted to throw up his hands, but refused to let her see how exasperated he was becoming.
Instead he shook his head in mild irritation. "Alright," He said, "I'll do it."
Catherine smiled a big smile and turned to leave. She stopped the door and looked over her shoulder at Grissom, who had turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. "Oh, and Grissom?" He looked up at her.
She smirked, "Dress up. It is a costume party after all." With that she opened the door and went her merry way. Grissom let out a sigh and returned to his work.
'Damn!'
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The theme of the party had been to dress-up as a famous person from history or fiction. Nick had come dressed as Charlie Chaplain, complete with bowler hat and cane. Warrick had come dressed as Ray Charles. Which was ironic, since Warrick was a fair piano player himself, and was currently playing riffs on an electric keyboard that someone in the lab had brought.
Sara was wearing a light suit of armour, which identified her clearly as Joan of Arc. She was busy chatting with Greg, who looked hilarious as Albert Einstein, wearing a wig of wild white hair and fake mustache that kept falling off.
Everyone was surprised to see Jim Brass arrive wearing a regular suit, looking quite like he normally did.
"You came as yourself?" Nick asked.
Brass chuckled, "No I came as the greatest cop in movie history."
"Who's that?" Warrick asked.
"Are you kidding me?" Brass asked, looking at them as if the answer were obvious, "Dirty Harry."
Brass reached into his coat and pulled out a large and very realistic looking revolver. He pointed it at Nick.
"You gotta ask yourself," Brass said, doing a very good impression of Clint Eastwood, "You feeling lucky? Well do ya…Punk?" The impression was so good, that Nick actually gulped and took a step back. Brass gave Nick a hard stare, looking like he might actually take a shot. When all of a sudden neither he, nor Warrick could stand it anymore, and both began laughing hysterically at Nick's reaction. Nick rolled his eyes.
It was at that moment, that Catherine strolled in wearing a red cocktail dress, with matching gloves and heels. Brass and Warrick stopped laughing long enough to join Nick in gaping at the new arrival.
When she began to approach them, all three men shook themselves from the trance that held them. She greeted them and asked Brass who he was supposed to be.
"Dirty Harry." He told her.
"Complete with .44 Magnum." Nick muttered.
"Where's Grissom?" Catherine asked.
"No idea. Was he even coming?" Warrick asked.
'Damn,' Catherine thought, 'I thought for sure I'd convinced him.'
"Who are you supposed to be?" Brass asked.
Catherine was about to reply, when-as if on cue-Grissom walked through the door. He was dressed up as Sherlock Holmes, complete with deerstalker and dropstem pipe. Catherine smiled and approached him.
"Hey Sherlock!" She greeted him.
Grissom turned and grinned when he saw her.
She punched him lightly on the arm, "What took you so long?" She asked, with mock indignation.
"You have no idea how hard it is to get a deerstalker and dropstem pipe on only a few hours notice."
"How did you pull that off?" Catherine wanted to know.
"I said it was hard, not impossible. He paused looking her over.
"Gypsy Rose Lee, right?" he asked.
"That is right. How did you guess?" Catherine asked in genuine surprise.
Grissom grinned, "Elementary, dear Catherine."
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The party went on through the night. Somewhere along the line, someone got the idea that it would be fun to play out the evening in character.
Greg began speaking with a very thick German accent, while Sara began speaking with a French one. This added a whole new level of awkwardness to their conversation, as both were trying to figure just what the other was saying.
Warrick began talking jive and began playing blues on the keyboard. Brass stalked around the room, adopting the surly demeanor that he usually reserved for interrogating a suspect.
Catherine was left with the challenge of trying to decide how best to imitate the famous striptease artist she was dressed up as. So when Warrick started playing something slow, she walked over to Grissom who was standing next to the now silent Nick, trying to deduce where Greg had hidden his latest stash of imported coffee.
"Want to dance, Sherlock?" She asked in a low and sultry voice.
Grissom looked at her and grinned. He decided to play along, "Indeed, I would." He answered, in a high-class British accent.
They moved over to the center of the breakroom, near the keyboard. Grissom put his hands on her waist and she put hers on his shoulders and they swayed to the music.
"What a pair we make." Catherine spoke in the same husky whisper.
"The world's greatest detective and the world's greatest dancer?" Grissom asked.
"Yeah, you think people will talk?" She joked.
Grissom chuckled slightly, "Frankly, Scarlet, I don't give a damn."
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When the part was over Grissom walked Catherine out to her car.
When the reached it, he opened her door for and smiled.
"Thanks Cath." He said.
"For what?"
"For making me come and being with me. I actually had fun tonight."
Catherine put her hand on Grissom's shoulder, "Glad to hear it."
"See you tomorrow Cath."
"See you Grissom."
With that she got in the car and drove off. Grissom turned and headed for his own vehicle.
The end.