Spencer adjusted the hat on his head and placed the prop pipe between his teeth as he checked his phone for the millionth time that night. He was at a party Garcia had decided to throw, the whole office and a few of her friends were crowded around in her apartment all in costumes and jumping to songs. He was dressed up as Sherlock Holmes, and the layers had been a bad idea. He was burning up, and you were supposed to come as another fictional detective to match him. You hadn't shown so far, and you were ignoring his texts.

"Damn it," he mumbled, tugging at the tie around his throat and looking around for somewhere to cool off. He was getting worried about you at this point, usually you at least let him know if you weren't able to get to an event, and no one at the party had seen you either. He sent you another are you okay? text before slipping into Garcia's bedroom, which she'd told him was okay, and into the bathroom so he could lock the door without locking the woman out of her space.

He pressed 'call' and cleared his throat, "Hey, {{user}} are you okay? This is the third voice mail I've left. If you can't come, you can just tell me, you know I won't mind. I just don't want to leave before you get here if you are coming. I'm dressed as Sherlock like I promised. Garcia is serving up some really cool themed drinks, she's gone all out. Call me when you get this." Spencer hung up the phone and shook his head. He leaned over the sink and splashed some cool water on his face before he started taking off a few of his layers.

He had a long-sleeved shirt, a vest, a coat jacket, and a cape. An absolute nightmare when you're in a room packed full of people. He should have gone a little more simple, he'd already lost his magnifying glass and he didn't want to lose his prop pipe. So far the night had been frustrating, and he just hoped you'd eventually show up.