Okely dokely. I'll start with a disclaimer - CSI is not mine, neither is Miami, none of the characters (except Cheryl... oh, and the 'bad guys'/extra character people), the cars - simply, if you recognise it from the show, it's nothing to do with me. If you do recognise the characters I've made up, it is complete coincidence, as I know nobody named that, nor like them.

Ok, as I mentioned somewhere at the begining of writing this, this is all based on a bizarre dream I had. I'm trying to keep the charaters the same as much as possible, and I will admit now, there are places where they get OOC. The first two or three chapters are also a little fluffly, but some fluff is good... besides, it's my fic! And yeah, there are bits that might make you think, 'hmmm,' but let it pan out first! And then you can tell me you don't like it. Don't get me wrong, I'd like to know if you're liking it too.

Yeah, I'll shut up now, and let you read! Enjoy?

'I am not doing it. It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of!' Exclaimed Cheryl, the latest edition to the Miami Dade Crime lab. Admittedly, she had been working there long enough to have a baby in the time, but she was the last person who had been hired by Horatio Caine.

'The mayor wants to say thank you for saving his son's life,' her uncle, Horatio, was trying to tell her objectively. They had found out that they were related on her first case, but it had been by fluke. In the process of trying to solve the case, Cheryl had been shot and the DNA results that had been needed for the officer-involved-shooting incident had revealed that they were related.

'Can't he say thank you by donating some money to something on my behalf?'

'He has already given the go ahead for an increased budget to the Crime Lab.'

Cheryl flung herself down on the chair, 'then why can't he leave it at that?' She asked him, resting her elbows on Horatio's desk, as she sunk her head into her hands. 'It's just ridiculous,' she repeated. 'How many lives have you saved over the years? More than me, that's for sure!'

'He is using your Cocaine Procedure as the reason behind it.' The Cocaine Procedure was something Cheryl had created after a case she had been involved in at a club, where a girl had open fire at the guy standing next to her. It actually had nothing to do with drugs, but with GSR identification, or rather matching the GSR to the gun from which it had been fired. The name had been a mistake caused by Cheryl's computer when she had tried to save the Procedure as Carter-Caine Procedure. Instead it had been saved as the ccaine procedure, and after several people had called it the Cocaine Procedure, Cheryl hadn't been bothered to change it.

'But a level 4!' She groaned, 'I can't even believe he got the approval for that.'

'It would seem he is well connected.'

'I'm not doing it, Horatio. It's bollocks.'

'Cheryl, whilst I am aware that the rest of the team may not be aware of English cuss words, I am, and I would appreciate you not using them around me, if at all.' Cheryl's mother was English and had come across to Miami on vacation twenty four years ago, met Raymond Caine, and had a brief fling, before returning to England, not knowing she was pregnant. Nine months later, Cheryl had been born and her mother had been unable to track down her father to let him know. Raymond had died only a few years ago, before Cheryl had ever had chance to meet him.

'I'm sorry, Horatio, but it is the biggest pile of nonsense ever dreamt up. People have a hard enough time believing I'm a level 3 because of my age. How on earth do you think people are going to react when I say I'm a level 4?' Cheryl was, at 23, the youngest CSI 3 in the country. Her mum, before she had died, had told her friends that it was because she was a gifted child.

Indeed, she had done two degrees and worked in the NYPD for two years in her twenty three years of life, but she had done nothing else. In fact, the only hobby Cheryl had involved her cars, and because of her young age, that had been a fairly recent hobby. Up until recently, she had been a bit of a workaholic, working all her days off and throwing herself into solving the latest crime, but now, she was relaxing a little bit more. She had even relaxed enough to be in a relationship.

'When they realise how competent you are at your job, I'm sure it won't be an issue.'

'You Horatio, are the eternal optimist. And you know it doesn't work that way. So please, tell him I don't want this and he should focus on improving his hurricane evacuation routes, or something, because it's a title I will never use!' She pounded her hand on the table.

'Cheryl, watch your temper. It's going to get you in trouble these days.' He cautioned her, 'look, go home, enjoy the rest of your afternoon off, and come in tomorrow fresh for your shift.'

She muttered something under her breath and stalked out of the lab, her long strawberry blonde hair flying behind her.

She drove back to her apartment at her usual speed of barely-legal, again -the model officer, and swung her Hummer into its usual parking spot. Dashing inside, she pulled her clothes off and changed into a pair of denim shorts and a white tank top, before heading back out with a bucket and sponge. Her Hummer wasn't exactly filthy, but it was due a wash. She plugged her earphones and switched her mp3 player to the cheesiest, and somewhat appropriate, song she had, Christina Aguilera's version of Carwash.

She was busy dancing about with the hose pipe, that she didn't notice the small audience she'd acquired. Eventually, a camera flash caught her attention, and she whipped around to find a blonde woman and a photographer taking her picture. She dropped the hose pipe and hurried over, 'can I help you?'

'Elle Swan, Miami Prophet.'

'Cheryl Carter, CSI,' she glared at the photographer.'

'CSI 4, I believe.'

Cheryl's mouth dropped open, 'how have you heard about that?'

'So you're not denying it?'

'Yeah, I'm denying it, that's not happened yet, and if I have my way, it won't either.'

'Is that your ride?'Elle asked her, pointing to the sud covered Hummer.

'Yes, why?'

'Is there a reason why it doesn't match the Crime Lab Hummers?'

'Because it's my Hummer, not the Crime Labs. Look, I really don't see what this has to do with anything. And if you think you can get something out of me regarding a case, then it's not going to happen – not even by you trying to catch me off guard. And on that note, this complex is private property, and I'd appreciate it if you left now.' She told them, pointing to the gate.

The reporter smiled, 'nice meeting you. No doubt we'll be seeing each other again in the future,' she turned quickly, her blonde hair flipping over her shoulder, and left, the photographer close behind her.

Cheryl frowned and stood watching until the reporter had driven off in her own red Hummer, although the reporter's was a H3, rather than a H2. How on earth can a reporter afford a Hummer? She thought as she returned back to rinsing off her own car, in a slightly subdued mood, without her music.

She was still wondering about the reporter a while later when she had stripped off and jumped in the shower. The water was pounding down over her head, and the water was so hot, it had steamed up the shower's glass doors, as she stood there, her arms stretched out in front of her, so she was resting her weight on her arms against the shower wall. Behind her the door opened and someone stepped inside her. He walked up to her, and wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her neck.

She smiled, without turning around, and was about to greet her companion, but something made her stop what she was about to say, 'my God, Tim, you smell terrible.' She told him, as she turned around and flung her body wash at him.

'Decomp.' He told her.

'Yeah, the smell of death, kind of gave it away.' She informed him, 'did it not occur to you to take a shower?'

'What do you think I'm doing?'

'Before you came to mine! God, I know I gave you some body wash.' A joint Chemistry degree, and being in a sorority meant that in Cheryl's final year at LSU, her and three other sisters had come together to create their own soap line for their final project. Cheryl had been the science behind what was now becoming a reputable company, in creating a soap which could rid the odour of most things from skin, including decomp. Since becoming a CSI, Cheryl had realised that marketing her soap in that area would increase their profit margin. However, death was not the image her other sisters wanted to associate with their brand, and as a result, very few CSIs were aware of its full potential. Cheryl, on the other hand, was using word of mouth at the Crime Lab, and hoping that the CSIs across the country would go out and buy it, if only to stop everyone smelling of lemons.

'Eric borrowed it off me, and has yet to return it.'

'Makes a change for someone to borrow something off you and not return it.' She smiled, as she squeezed some of the liquid onto a sponge and began rubbing it against him.

'What are you implying?'

'I have a message from Calleigh, borrow anything from her kit again, without asking, or replacing, and die.'

'It was only a bit of her finger print dust.' He replied indignantly.

'From what I hear, Mr. Speedle, you lifted a hotel bathroom, so it was hardly a few lifts. She was caught short in a bakery and had to improvise using icing sugar.'

'And that's why she's such a good CSI – she can improvise.'

'The point is, she shouldn't have to because you can't remember to restock your own kit. I've even told you to help yourself to mine.'

'We can't all be as OCD about our kits as you,' Cheryl made to flick him with the sponge, but he caught her wrists, 'besides; you and your Hummer were in court today, so I couldn't borrow anything.'

Cheryl opened her mouth, ready to tell him that he should have had the sense to restock before she went to court, and that he was a complete pain in the – but he seemed to realise what was coming and pre-silenced her with a kiss.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A little over an hour later, they were both out of the shower, smelling clean, and fresh, with no hints of death lingering on Speed's skin, lying on Cheryl's bed, both dressed in fluffy robes. Speed was flicking through the television channels, unable to settle on anything, whilst Cheryl was leaning against him, curled up under his arm. 'So how was court?' He asked her, finally settling on a documentary about ants.

'Same old. We're going to reconvene in the morning at stupid o'clock. But we should be done quite quickly. I have to be cross examined by the defence attorney, but it's an open and shut case.'

'It was Eric's first day back at work today.'

'Yeah, I know. I sent him a text when I had a break. He replied telling me he had the misfortune of working with you.'

'Hey!' He exclaimed, but stopped, seeing the mischievous glint in Cheryl's green eyes. 'You are dead,' he told her, reaching round to tickle her.

Cheryl squealed and dove out of the way, 'okay, you win, no tickling.'

Speed held his hands up, and Cheryl returned to where she had been sitting, growing quiet.

'Alright, what have you done?'

She took a deep breath, 'I called in to see Horatio on my way back from court. I've got some stupid promotion.'

'That's great! Wait, a promotion to what? You're not taking Horatio's job, are you?'

'Tim, could you really see me being in charge of a Crime Lab?'

'Well, does it involve you moving?'

'No. The mayor wants to make me a CSI 4.'

Speed burst out laughing, 'there's no such thing.'

'I think I realise that,' she grumbled, 'and so does the mayor, which is why he has managed to get someone in the higher powers to agree to it being created. Especially for me. Will you stop laughing, it's not funny!'

'I know it's not, that's why it is.'

'How you managed to become a CSI amazes me sometimes.' She pouted, 'it's a load of nonsense, and I'm trying to get Horatio to get the mayor to change his mind.'

'All this for saving his son's life?'

'Yeah, although he's saying the real reason is because of that stupid procedure. How is anyone supposed to take me seriously now, with that number tagged after me?'

'Cheryl, just let it happen. When the mayor realises what a horrible mistake he's made, I can guarantee you he'll be revoking his decision as fast as you can say, demotion.'

'Gee, thanks.' She muttered, crossing her arms.

'You are so cute when you're sulking.'

Cheryl rolled her eyes, 'firstly, I'm not sulking, and secondly, stop being such a sap.'

Speed chuckled, leant over and kissed her, turning the television off as he did so.

Well, thanks for reading! I promise there is a case under all this... just setting some foundations in. There's also going to be less of the fluffy stuff. I just wanted to see Speed, and Cheryl, to be happy for a bit, because it's not going to stay like that. Ah well. Oh, and the info included about Cheryl, had been, um, discovered in my other stories about her and the gang, so if it seems a little unbelieveable, have a gander at my past stuff, and you'll realise it aint that bad!