A/N: For the record, this was written (and published; note the date) before S7, and wasn't at the time considered canon.

---

Warrick turns slowly, takes in his surroundings. Grissom's house. He's only been here once before, and that was years ago, although nothing has changed. Except…

"Gris..?" says Warrick questioningly, and Grissom follows Warrick's line of sight. Dark silk on the coffee table, atop a pile of textbooks. He cocks his head, says nothing. Warrick turns again. Two pairs of heels; women's boots. A purse on the counter, two sets of keys.

"Gris?" he tries again, uncertain.

Behind them, the bathroom door opens. Enter Sara Sidle, clad in a white towel, as if on cue. Her lips part, form a small 'O' of surprise. I didn't know mouthed silently, and Grissom nods, and smirks.

"Sara." Warrick says blankly. Grissom's favourite CSI isn't doing too well today, and no one seems keen on filling him in.

Finally: "What are you doing here?"

An apologetic glace to Grissom, and Sara turns to Warrick, smiles sheepishly.

"I live here."