“It’s all green,” Catherine commented out loud, hoping that Grissom would agree with her, otherwise she was having a bizarre hallucination. Green streamers hung from the walls and ceilings, green film had been put across the lights, now bathing everything in a pale green glow, and there were many more plants than usually decorated the crime lab foyer.
“Why is it all green?” Grissom asked her, taking in the mysterious sight for himself.
Catherine frowned and examined the new décor, hoping that somewhere there was a clue to the explanation. “Ah!” she declared, spotting a picture of a shamrock nestled within the streamers on the notice board. “St Patrick’s Day.”
“Of course,” Grissom affirmed.
Then they faced each other as realisation struck simultaneously. “Greg,” they agreed.
Chuckling to themselves at the young CSI’s enthusiasm, they continued to the various rooms, depositing evidence as they went, and finding that Greg’s emerald touch had reached to all corners of the building.
“You know,” Catherine mused as they headed from the print lab to Grissom’s office, “If he’s done all the labs, he’s probably – ”
She stopped speaking when Grissom strode off ahead of her, obviously having pre-empted what she was about to say. She caught up with him in the doorway of his office, fighting to control her laughter at the scene in front of them.
They had thought Greg had been thorough everywhere else, but he had really gone to town on Grissom’s office. Green tinsel now joined the streamers, hanging from every available shelf, cupboard and terrarium in the room. His lights, too, had been covered; plants adorned with green baubles installed in what had been vacant spaces; and it seemed every surface had been dusted for prints using bright green powder.
“That’s a lot of fingerprints,” Catherine muttered, still trying to stifle laughter, as Grissom remained rooted to the spot with shock.
“Clearly he doesn’t have enough work to do,” Grissom stated, sternly.
There is only so much laughter one can conceal, and some burst free from Catherine as she exceeded her limit. “It’s his night off, Gil. It’s up to him what he does in his free time.”
“Not in my office it isn’t.”
“Oh, lighten up,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow, causing him to rock slightly. “He’s just getting in the spirit.”
“That’s what you said at Christmas,” he retorted, glancing over at her.
She could see a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, and her lips curved widely as she remembered Christmas – and the result of Greg putting mistletoe everywhere he possibly could.
“And that had a happy ending,” she smirked.
“True,” he answered, his voice suddenly gravelly and deep. Apparently his mind was also wandering to places it really shouldn’t when they were in public. Hardly surprising though given the memories they had stirred.
For seconds they just stood in the doorway of his office, eyes locked, chemistry crackling around them, and an emerald green glow radiating from behind them.
Out of their sight, down the corridor, Sara watched as they both smiled in that anticipatory way that couples do, and stepped inside, closing the office door. She’d had her suspicions since New Year, and that just confirmed them. Sighing, she turned and walked along the corridor, jaded and green with envy.