I wanted to try a crossover of my two favorite shows: CSI and Monk. I've tried reading other crossover stories, but they don't capture the characters. I want to make a go at it, anyone interested in helping me out, feel free to let me know!

Warning you right now: You are not going to like the beginning of this story, but I can't think of another way that these characters can come together.

CSI & Monk don't belong to me, but I am totally theirs.

San Francisco

The crime scene tape was the only colorful item in the bleak grey apartment complex. She knew before getting out of the car that this was going to test Mr. Monk's patience and control. The walls were covered in graffiti, trash overflowed onto the ground, a nightmare for someone of Adrian's temperament.

"Natalie, are you sure that this is the address?" Adrian Monk was not one to turn away a case, but looking at the complex before for him might just change his mind.

"Oh look Mr. Monk, there's the police cars parked over there!" Natalie parked the vehicle and grabbed her purse. Monk slowly exited the car, being careful to shut the door and not touch it with his hands. Natalie always made a point to keep her car clean, but her version of clean didn't hold a candle to her boss' idea of clean. When Leland called her to ask them to come he made to sure tell her to pack plenty of wipes, she'd need them for Monk.

The apartments looked like they would have been very charming, about 40 years ago, but due to time and neighborhoods changing, the once quaint townhouses now took on a more crack house appeal. Sure there were some doors that showed that the owners tried to make them presentable, but it was like putting lipstick on a pig, pretty color to look at, wrong thing to put it on.

Apartment 15C was one of them. A cheery daisy wreath hung on the door, but the flowers were faded and some were pulled off the arrangement giving it a haggard look. Monk was having trouble walking to the door. The sidewalk was cracked in several places, making a solid step almost impossible. Gingerly, he made his way to the door, but in Natalie's estimation it would take another 5 minutes for him to make it to where she was at now. She took her coat and covered the wreath so there should not be too much of a problem getting into the house. If Monk were to see the wreath, well, she didn't want to think of that right now.

She was about to knock on the door when Lt. Disher opened the door to rush past. Usually, Randy always walked with a swagger, confident that he was the right man for the case. This time however, the young detective was pale, to the point of looking like he was going to get sick. Not realizing what he was doing, he pushed by Natalie and barely got past Monk before he started vomiting. Monk cried out, if there was one thing that he just couldn't handle, it was germs. Sidewalk cracks forgotten, he raced to Natalie's side.

"I, I need a wipe," Monk was looking at his shoes. "He got me on my shoes, I need a wipe please Natalie."

Unfortunately for Monk, Natalie wasn't paying attention to his shoes. She raced to Randy's side, holding him up and rubbing his back as he saw the last of his breakfast coming up on the lawn before him.

"Randy! Are you ok? Let me get you something to clean up with." Natalie cried as she frantically was looking for a wipe, not for Monk, but for Randy. Monk got increasingly more frantic as Natalie was quickly wiping Randy's brow.

"Natalie, I think he got some….on my shoes….I need to get it off……Natalie!" Monk was as pale as Randy now.

Natalie looked up and saw her boss about to keel over at the sight of vomit on the ground. "I'm sorry Mr. Monk, here you go." She got a wipe out of her purse, and handed it to him.

He looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. "Could you get it off for me? I can't touch his ….." Monk couldn't even say vomit without wanting to do the same thing.

"Please Mr. Monk, I'm trying to help Randy,"Natalie said as she looked down at his shoes. "Really, there isn't anything on your shoes to take off. Randy wasn't that close to you to get any of that on you."

"You don't know that." Monk was determined to not touch his shoes. "Please Natalie, would you please get it off?"

Randy straightened up, wiping his mouth with the wipe. "It's all right. I can take care of myself." He smiled a less than reassuring smile at her so she could tend to her boss.

Natalie bent down and wiped the imaginary vomit off Monk's shoes. There was never a dull moment as Adrian Monk's assistant, but sometimes his idiosyncrasies were too much too bear. She looked up at him and said, "All better?"

"Yes, thank you." Monk relaxed immediately.

Natalie turned to Randy, who still looked pretty ashen, touched his arm gently and asked "What happened? Are you coming down with something?"

"No, it's just that some crime scenes are a little hard to take." Randy pulled her aside to speak to her quietly. "I hope that you brought plenty of wipes, I don't think Monk is not going to last very long in there."

"Is it that bad?" Working with Monk, she had seen plenty of crime scenes, but nothing that Monk couldn't handle.

"Just keep a close watch on him, it looks like a bomb went off in there, but we haven't gotten a straight answer yet from the only one still standing. The captain will explain everything when we get inside." Randy opened the door and led them through the house.

If the outside looked bleak, the inside was an about face. The living area was neat with older furniture, some pictures on the wall. It was in an order that Monk could even handle. As they walked towards the kitchen area, it was another story. It had looked as if something exploded and shrapnel was everywhere. The cabinets below the sink were ripped off the hinges, with the wall to the opposite of the sink blackened and charred. A slim dark haired woman, looking to be in her 30s lay crumpled on the floor. Her hands still clung something; Natalie couldn't see what it was. Her face was not recognizable. She heard a stifled sob, looked up to see Randy holding a fist to his mouth before turning away.

Monk looked warily at Randy and stepped to the side. "If you are going to get sick again, please stay clear of me. We're right in the middle of cold and flu season and I can' get sick. You wouldn't like me if I got sick." He turned to Natalie, "Wipe, please before he gets anything on me."

Randy shook his head, "I'm not sick."

"Then what is it then? What makes this case any different?" Natalie was intrigued. She had never seen Randy in such a state before. He almost looked, well, normal. Too many times he hid behind this "tough detective" façade and she was taken aback by his tears.

Out of a side room walked Capt. Leland Stottlemeyer. By the look on his face, it had already been a long day. Seeing Randy, he shook his head. "Didn't I tell you to get out of here? Does 'conflict of interest' mean anything to you?" The Captain was flustered, which wasn't as big a surprise to anyone standing there. Randy frustrated him on an hourly basis, but this time, they could tell it was out of general concern, not at the young detective's actions.

"Yes sir, but I know I can help…."

"Enough! Randy, I do not want you here. Let me make this clear, you can leave one of two ways: on your own with some measure of dignity, or you leave escorted by San Francisco's finest and your badge in my pocket. Either way, you are leaving this crime scene. Do you read me?" By the look on his face, he meant every word.

Randy hung his head and ran his fingers through his hair roughly. "I read you. Loud and clear." Randy turned to go.

The captain turned to Natalie and Monk. "Adrian, I'm glad you could make it. I need your expertise in handling something, well, rather delicate."

"You know I'm always willing to help you Leland," Monk looked at the woman and started to walk towards the kitchen while he was still talking. "That woman is holding something in her hand…"

Leland stopped him before he could finish. "Monk I need you to do something different for me this time. The victim's mother is still in a state of shock over finding her daughter like this, and I can't seem to get her to talk at all."

Natalie started for the door, "Do you need me to talk to her?"

"Probably later, when she calms down a bit, but time is of the essence and I need someone who can talk to her where she's at right now, and Monk here is the guy to do it." He opened the door and let Monk and Natalie in.

The bedroom was small. The poor woman sitting on the bed looked wasted away. She probably was in her fifties but easily looked like she was in her seventies. Time had not been kind to her at all. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled up into a bun. She was trying to flatten a piece of paper that had been crumpled up, but wasn't having much success. That look in her eyes was familiar to Natalie, she had seen it dozens of times when Monk was working around his house. That look of determination. She was going to straighten that piece of paper, and nothing was going to deter her from it.

Monk sat down next to her. "Paper. Nothing worse to straighten out."

The woman quickly looked up "It was crumpled up on the floor. My daughter isn't messy, and I wanted to see what it was."

"Have you tried using a pencil to smooth it out?"

She frowned, "I need a no. 2 pencil to get it just right. I'm all out."

Monk brightened, "I can help you with that," turning to Natalie "can I have a pencil please?"

Natalie quickly retrieved a no 2 pencil from her purse and handed to Monk, who in turn handed to the woman. Her face relaxed as she smoothed out the paper, seeming to be satisfied with her accomplishment. He pointed out where she missed a spot, and she seemed to calm down as he sat next to her. The next thing he did startled Natalie, because it wasn't something he did often.

Looking at her, he held out his hand "I am Adrian Monk. I work with the police department, and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."

The woman carefully took his hand in hers and said "My name is Laura. Laura Sidle."