It was supposed to be a routine 419. These overdose cases were as common as colds but for one CSI, it was personal.

Greg Sanders got a solo case that night. He didn't care that the case was uneventful and already pretty much solved; he loved how Grissom now treated him with such assurance that enabled him to work single-handedly.

The rundown neighbourhood was alive with the sounds of police cars in the distance and dogs barking despite the pitch black sky. The apparent smell of rotten garbage assaulted the young CSI's nostrils as soon as he stepped out of his car. He collected his kit from the trunk and walked inside the shabby looking bungalow accompanied by the young officer assisting him.

The rookie cop, Stevens, quickly rattled off a number of facts from his notebook about the resident they were standing above in his kitchen. '48 year old male, lives alone, found by neighbours complaining about the music. They found him like this.' Stevens glanced up towards Greg to ensure he was listening, 'Neighbours turned off the music and went home to call us.'

The man lay sprawled on his floor, the ominous looking needle clutched in his right hand had dried blood on the tip. It was clear the man had died from an overdose. Greg had already finished taking pictures when David, the coroners assistant arrived to take the body.

All that was left to do was find out the man's identity. The landlord had been entirely unhelpful by not knowing the full name of the deceased, only remembering his name was Calum-something-or-other and the mysteriously missing wallet was believed stolen. Greg was left to sift through drawers and boxes for any old letters or ID's that could tell them who the dead man was and hopefully allows officers to track down his family.

It was an old grainy family picture which gave Greg the first notion of who the man was. They looked like an ordinary family. The two parents sat together on chairs and the teenage boy, who Greg believed was the dead occupant of the house, stood proud beside his father. But it was the little girl who Greg paid the most attention to. Her shoulder length brown hair had soft waves that framed her face, her mouth grinning wildly clearly emphasised the small gap between her front teeth. He flipped over the picture and on the back written in messy numbers, '1977'. He did the math in his head; the little girl looked about five years old in the photograph and Sara was born in 1972.

Greg allowed himself to keep searching, and as he opened up the last drawer to look in, he found an old credit card. Calum Sidle.

Still clutching the card in his rubber gloved hands he flipped out his cell phone and dialled a familiar number.

'Grissom?'

'Yes Greg. Is everything okay at your scene?'

'Yes… well. No. Not really.'

'Spit it out Greg. I have work to do too.'

'I think the victim is Sara's brother.'

Gil Grissom took a sharp breath inwards. 'Okay Greg. I'll be right there.'

So I know that was a short first chapter but I would really like to know what everyone thinks before I continue. So please please review!