What the hell will I ever do with this?
Pairing: Vague G/S because I just can't stop myself.
Rating: G
Summary: Response to the GeekFiction Challenge. See if you can guess the elements, if you're curious the link is in my Bio.
A/N: There is no plot, seriously… none. All blame/credit for the title can go to Tinker. :)
Sara looked around the apartment, lighting her gaze on various objects, and swiftly moving on when nothing appeared to yield the information she wanted. The owner of the house, having been recently gutted, was now residing in the morgue. It was a relatively modest home, and it certainly wasn't clean by any means, but it was relatively tidy none the less. It was a strange combination of order and chaos.
Three dishes lay out on the side of the sink, as if someone had just had a meal and left them out to wash up. Perhaps the victim had been interrupted. She shuddered a little at the grime on the work surfaces. She was definitely in the wrong job for a complete germ-phobe. The only other disturbance in the otherwise relatively organised room was the pool of crimson blood which remained on the floor.
Several paper bags of groceries sat on the sideboard; a couple of packets of pasta, some tomatoes, a radish. She picked up the vegetable, examining it briefly, before putting it down again and picking up another.
"You find anything interesting?" Sara spun around suddenly when she heard a voice very close behind her ear. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts she had completely forgotten that she was not alone at the scene. Grissom looked down at her hands and gave her a quizzical glance. It took her a moment to realise what he was getting at.
"Oh- uh, death by turnip perhaps?" Sara held it up, gave a quirked grin and dropped the vegetable back into the brown paper bag.
Grissom raised an eyebrow, apparently choosing not to comment. He turned and wandered back across the room, taking several minutes to examine the cupboard doors, before crouching down, and peering under the dresser. "Or..." He pointed in the direction he was looking, raising an eyebrow at her. She frowned, and bent down beside him.
"Oh, well… that might make more sense," she huffed, "death by blood covered meat cleaver."
He didn't say anything more, she merely felt the air move beside her cheek when he nodded his agreement, and stretched a hand into the space, gingerly pulling it out between his fingers. "I think that might be a more believable account to give the DA." he murmured. Sara swallowed tightly nodding silently. They both looked up at a sound from across the room.
"Uh, how long are you lot going to be?" Brass was, by now, standing in the doorway watching them with interest. Sara straightened clearing her throat quietly and taking a discrete step away from Grissom, before either Brass noticed their proximity, or she became so distracted that she couldn't work. Brass chose to ignore her not so subtle move. "-the natives are restless…" He followed their confused glances for a moment before adding, "The wife and kid are outside and want answers."
Sara smoothly took another step away from Grissom towards the table in front of them. She squinted at the detective for a moment. "Uh- you have..." He watched her wiping vaguely at her cheek. It took him a moment to mirror her action rubbing away the smear of sunblock. She smiled and nodded.
"Look as much as I love playing guard for you guys, that woman has mean aim and a Dior purse that I think she must be keeping bricks in. I think I'm going to bruise later."
"The wife has a Dior purse?" Grissom looked up from his continued examination of the floor towards the other man. He hadn't appeared to be following the conversation and yet still managed to pick up on anything he considered probative.
Brass gave him a faux hurt look. "You're worrying about that thing? What about my arm?"
Grissom sent him a withering glance, "look around you. Does it seem like they can afford something like that?"
Brass glanced briefly at the surroundings, turning back to Grissom after a short moment. "Uh - no, not really," he raised an eyebrow sighing resignedly. "I'll go see what else I can get out of her."
Brass walked fairly confidently into the yard in front of the house, he was followed only moments later by the two CSIs; who wisely chose to keep their distance. The woman was still standing where he had left her, her teenage son stood several feet away chewing something absently before spitting it at a tree. Nice to see that the youth of today are so good about looking after their surroundings he thought, before taking a deep breath in readiness. He wasn't looking forward to this confrontation.
He gave a forced smile. "Uh, Mrs Ellis…" The very look on her face was enough to raise his suspicions.
"What can you tell me?"
"We can't release that yet, bu- ow!" Brass grasped his shoulder with a grimace. How was it that this woman always managed to hit him in the same spot? By the time he had looked back at her she was simply standing watching him. She folded her arms across her chest defensively.
"I want my house back. I need things."
"That's perfectly understandable. " The woman took a second swipe at him, missing only by inches. She then immediately refolded her arms.
"Okay, that's it." He waved a hand at the officer stood near the edge of the driveway.
"You can't arrest me." The belligerent woman seemed determined to stand her ground, and get back in her house. There must be some reason for her determination. Why bother otherwise? The son didn't appear at all phased by any of the goings on. In fact, he had turned up his music so loud that Sara would swear she could hear every word.
Brass gave her a sickly smile. "Well, considering that, that is the third time I've got in the way of that thing, I think that 'assaulting an officer' might work for the moment. We'll see what we can do about that murder charge." The woman scowled and watched with disbelief as the young cop took hold of her shoulder and she was led away to a car. Sara snaked a hand out motioning for the purse, she examining it momentarily before sealing it into a paper bag. Brass was still standing massaging his arm gingerly.
"Well, that's that sorted then." Sara smiled, handed the purse over to Grissom and began to walk back towards the house.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
Sara gave him a wide grin and shrugged. "Anything you want."
1087 Words