I know, I've got two stories up already. Well, I finished writing one of them. And for the other my co-writer is sick, and I'm getting bored. I decided to write this one

SD-CSI doesn't belong to me.

Chapter 1

Two cars pulled in front of a Las Vegas mansion. Out of one car Warrick Brown and Gil Grissom walked out with their kits. Out of the other car Sara Sidle came out with her kits. Warrick and Grissom were well dressed and looked ready for work. Sara looked like she had not taken a shower, quickly brushed her hair, and thrown on the first outfit she could find. Her hair was flat, instead of the usual curl at the bottom. Her jeens were ripped at the knees and she had thrown on a purple tank top with a matching button- down sweater. Grissom and Warrick were dressed in their normal suits. Sara slipped her car keys into her pocket. Warrick took one look at Sara and almost burst out lauging.

"Nice outfit," he sneered.

Grissom raised an eyebrow at her, "what happened?" he asked her.

"It's called being woken up at 1 o'clock and being told to be out of the house and to a crime scene in 20 minutes," she said, glaring at Grissom.

"You didn't have time to put on more decent clothes?" Grissom asked.

Sara gave him a look and swung her arms in the air, "men!" she exclaimed.

"What about them?" Warrick asked.

"They do not understand women at all," she declaired, then she went marching, kit in hand, to the mansion.

Warrick and Grissom looked at each other and shrugged.

"Does it take women longer to get dressed?" Warrick asked.

"It must," Grissom said.

"Glad I'm not one," Warrick said. Grissom nodded in agreement and they also walked to the house where Sara was waiting impatiently.

"I don't get this," Sara said as the three walked into the hand.

"What?" Grissom asked.

"The guy kidnaps women from their homes, keeps them for a while, takes them back home, and kills them," Sara said. "If you're going to bring them back, why kidnap them at all? And why only long, brown haired women?"

"Those are questions only the killer can answer," Grissom said solemly.

"Than I guess we find the killer," Sara said sweetly.

"It's called our job," Warrick said, Sara slapped him on the head. "Ow, what was that for?"

"For being an idiot," Sara said bluntly. "Grissom what do we do?" she asked.

Grissom thought for a moment, "Sara, why don't you check out the perimiter of the house, Warrick, start printing, and I, will gather other evidence."

"Yes, sir," Sara said, going out the front door and closing, a little loud, behind her.

"What's with her?" Warrick asked Grissom.

"Lack of sleep?" Grissom said, "she has been working overtime on this case."

"True," Warrick said, he took out the printing kit from his field kit. "After this, I think she should get a day of vacation if she keeps that attitude."

"Warrick!" Grissom said, Warrick ignored him. Grissom shrugged and started taking pictures.


"I hate getting up early," Sara said grumply to herself. She spotted a shoeprint on the ground and took a picture of it. "It can make me so PMSy," she finished.

She began walked around the house again, noticing several footprints. In the back of the mansion, almost as far away from the boys as she could get, she noticed a smear on the wall. She took a picture on it and on closer inspection noticed it was blood. She put down her kit and took out a swab. She turned toward the wall and began to take a sample. She heard someone walk up behind her.

'It's probably Warrick' she thought to herself.

"Hey, can you put this in my kit and give me another one?" she asked without turning around. She held up the swab. The person took it from her and handed her another one.

"Thanks," she said, she looked at it and noticed that it was the wrong one. She started to turn around. "Hey this is the wrong one," she said, she turned around. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped.


"Hey, Warrick," Grissom said.

"Yeah?" Warrick asked.

"Can you go check on Sara, she hasn't come by and it's been 45 minutes," Grissom said.

"Sure," Warrick said, putting down the tweezers he was using to pick up fibers.

"Thanks," Grissom said, returning to his work. Warrick walked out.

"Hey Sara," he said, walking around a corner, "Grissom needs you. Sara, Sara?" Warrick came to the back of the house, where the smear was. "Why isn't she checking this?" he asked himself. "Hey, Sara, you slacking off?" he asked. "Sara, come on, this aint funny," he said, looking around the house. He went to the front and saw that her car was gone, he shook his head. "Grissom's gonna kill her for leaving," he said to himself. He walked into the house.

"You find her?" Grissom asked.

"No," Warrick said, Grissom raised his eyebrow, "but her car is gone to."

"She left?" Grissom asked.

"I think so," Warrick said.

"That is not something she would do," Grissom said.

Warrick shrugged, "she was not acting like Sara today," he said.

Grissom frowned, "let's finish up here and go. For the sake of her job, let's hope she has a legitimate reason for leaving."

"Grissom," Warrick said.

"Yes?" he asked; he was still frowning.

"There was a smear on the back wall, do you want me to picture it and take some swabs?" he asked.

"Yes," Grissom said.

"Ok," Warrick said, walking out.

"God, Sara," he said to no one, "you had better have a good reason, he's pissed."