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Cheryl followed her to a blue Yukon, where Sara proceeded to lean against the driver's door, tapping her foot impatiently. She was reading the small slip of paper with the address on that Grissom had given her. 'Henderson. Marvellous.'

Henderson? 'Um, Sara?'

'Yes?'

'I know this isn't really appropriate, but I arrived in Vegas literally an hour ago, and I never made it to my house. Well, is there any chance we could make a small detour to it on the way back. Only I have Eddie in my car, and I really don't want to leave him in it for the shift, if I can help it.'

'Eddie?'

'Sorry. Eddie's my pet goose.'

Sara frowned, 'fine. But we're not going until after we've been to the crime scene.'

'That's fine. Thank you!' She exclaimed, hurrying over to the Hummer on the other side of the parking lot. She scooped up the sleeping pile of feathers, and carried him back in one hand, against her chest, his box with food and water in the other.

Finally, another person emerged from the building, blonde hair flattened down, and his shoulders hunched up in his jacket, as though he was trying to protect himself from a non existent wind.

'About time, Sanders.' Yelled Sara, as she yanked open the door and got in the car. Cheryl pulled open the door behind and got in the back. A few seconds later, Greg got in the front.

As he buckled up his seatbelt, he noticed Cheryl in the back, looking inquisitively at him. 'Who are you?'

'She's the new CSI,' said Sara.

Greg looked at Cheryl, before looking at Sara, before looking back at Cheryl, 'Okay,' he said slowly, 'I'm Greg.'

'Cheryl.'

'Welcome to Las Vegas,' he said, as they began driving down the strip. 'So what's that in your arms?'

'He's my pet goose, Eddie. I never made it to my house and this case is in Henderson so I figured I could kill to birds with one stone and drop him off on the way. And there was no pun intended in that.'

'Whoa, you're a Brit!'

'Um, yeah.'

Greg swivelled around in his seat, undid his seat belt and practically leapt in the back, knocking Sara on the way. 'Sanders!' She screeched.

'So, say something English,' he said excitedly, ignoring Sara.

'Greg, I am speaking the same language as you.'

'No, say something English English. You know, like Dahling, and crumpets.'

Cheryl burst out laughing, 'no offence, but we don't speak like that, you know.'

'Ah, please. Anything!'

'Trust me when I say there will be plenty of opportunities to catch me on an English phrase, or something like that. I'm a muppet when it comes to things like that.'

Greg started laughing and wiggling about like a small child. 'Muppet?' he said, in a British accent, 'I like that,' he said, clapping his hands.

'Greg Sanders, sit the hell still!' Shouted Sara.

Greg leant forward and kissed her on the cheek, 'chill, Sara,' he told her, leaning back in the seat.

Cheryl covered a smile with a hand and looked out of the window. The next thing she knew, Greg's head was practically in her lap, looking up at her as he stroked Eddie. 'So, Cheryl, what brings you to this neck of the woods?'

'It'sa long story, actually,' she told him, trying hard to resist the urge to flick his nose. 'But the long and short of it is that I was asked.'

'Ooooo, who asked you?'

'Mr. Ecklie.'

'Ha ha! Mr.?'

That was it; the temptation was far too great. She flicked his nose. Greg laughed and started tickling her. She squealed and started tickling him back, all whilst trying to keep Eddie out of the way. The next thing they knew, Sara had slammed on the brakes, and Greg had been thrown in the foot well. 'Sara!' He cried, pulling himself up and onto the seat next to Cheryl. But it was unheard as she had already stalked out of the car.

'Is she always this pleasant?' Asked Cheryl, as she jumped out of the car herself, leaving Eddie in the foot well where Greg had just been.

Greg shrugged. 'She used to be fun… funner.'

'I don't think funner is a word.'

'It's either that or she's still madly in love with me, and finding it difficult to see me talking to you.' He told her, following Sara.

'Are you sure that it's not you who's madly in love with her?' She muttered to herself before catching up with him.

The two walked over to Sara, who was stood outside one of the houses with a blonde detective. The smell was already wafting out of the building. 'A decomp, nice,' said Greg.

'Kids called it in,' said the blonde. 'David's already in there. I hope you haven't eaten anything recently.' She was watching Cheryl who was rooting in her kit for something. Sara on the other hand, had already gone marching into the building. The blonde shrugged her shoulders and followed Sara in, leaving Cheryl and Greg outside.

'You don't like decomps?' Asked Greg, curious as to why Cheryl was putting off going in the building.

'Hell, no,' said Cheryl, as she stood upright, a small pot in her hands. 'But I can make it easier than it has to be. Hey, Greg, shut your eyes.'

Greg pulled a face, but did as he was told. Cheryl dipped her finger into her pot, and dabbed a small amount of the cream onto Greg's upper lip. 'Ew, what is that?' He exclaimed.

Cheryl smiled and put the same thing on her face, in the same place.

'Are you telling me I have a blob on my face?'

'Trust me when I say you will appreciate it in a minute,' she told him, as she returned the tub to her box, and pulled on some gloves. She walked through the doorway, Greg close behind her.

They had only gone a few steps when Greg let out a loud cry, 'hey, I smell vanilla!'

Cheryl turned around and grinned at him, 'so, how much do you love me?'

'Enough to kiss you!'

'Try it, with that stuff on your face, and die!' She laughed.

'And what exactly is this stuff?'

'It's basically an experimental smell altering chemical which was originally being used by garbage men in New York, but the sample has been widened to include garbage men in St. Louis, well.'

'It's experimental!'

'Chill, Greg, it's fine, and it's doing the job.'

'You said garbage men,' he chuckled.

'And why is that funny?'

'Because it sounds funny coming from a Brit.'

Cheryl spit her tongue out at him. She didn't know what it was about Greg, but he was bringing out the child in her.

'How did you manage to get your hands on it?'

'Long story short, I was in the NYPD, and we worked very closely with one of the local fire departments. And like most fire departments, it had a paramedic unit attached to it. And one of the paramedics was very resourceful at finding random stuff like this – a neighbour's brother, or something.'

Finally, they made it upstairs and into one of the rooms. It had, at one point, been a bathroom. Cheryl grimaced, she knew instantly, this was not going to be pretty. It wasn't.

Inside of the grubbiest bathtubs Cheryl had ever seen, was, well, pretty much, soup. Sara was busy talking to the coroner. 'Anything, David?'

'Well, he's dead.'

'He?'

'He, she? It is dead. Can't really tell you much more than that. You're going to have to get whatever bones are left out of there and on my table.'

'Gee, thanks for that analysis, David,' Sara grumbled as David left the room, throwing a smile at Greg and Cheryl, as he did.

'Greg, go get some buckets,' ordered Sara, rising to her feet and turning to face him, 'and what the hell do you have on your faces. God, I am working with children today!'

Cheryl, who up until this point was quite willing to share her crème with Sara, changed her mind at this point. If she was going to be in a bad mood with her for no reason, then so be it. She would have offered the detective some, but she had disappeared somewhere.

Finally Greg returned carrying multiple pipes and buckets. 'Here you go, Sara,' he said, as he put them down beside her.'

Sara glared at him, before wedging a pipe underneath the tub, where the drainage pipes should be. She put the other end in the bucket.

Meanwhile, Cheryl had her flashlight out and was looking at some footprints which had been left in the dirt covered floor.

'Okay, which one of you two is pulling the plug?' Sara called over.

Cheryl looked at her, 'are you serious?'

'She's serious,' sighed Greg, as he began to roll his sleeves up.

'Hey, if we've got to do this, we at least do it fairly.' Objected Cheryl.

'And what are you suggesting?' Asked Sara.

'Rock, scissor, paper.'

'Yeah, I'm up for that!' Exclaimed Greg.

'Not a chance.' Said Sara, dusting off her legs.

Greg looked crestfallen, and continued to roll his sleeve up.

'Hey,' said Cheryl, 'we're still doing this fairly.' She held out her fist. Greg did the same and the two of them revealed their choice. 'Crap.' Said Cheryl, as she took her jacket off. She'd drawn paper, whilst Greg had gone for scissors.

'You know, we can do best out of three,' said Greg, taking pity on the newbie.

'Nah, its fine,' said Cheryl, as she plunged her hand into the thick mixture. The… remains… had filled the tub so that it came up to her elbow. 'Ugh, this is disgusting,' she said. She felt around in the bathtub, looking for the plug. It turned out that whatever was blocking the drain wasn't a plug, but teeth?

Cheryl pulled them out and shined her torch onto them. She wiped away some of the gunk to find something that looked suspiciously like diamonds.

'What have you got there?' Asked Sara, seeing the light reflect off the jewels and onto the ceiling.

Cheryl smiled. 'I'm not sure, but I think out vic had a killer smile, for starters.'

'That's bad,' grinned Greg.

'Thank you, I'm here all week.' Greg gave her a playful shove – a fatal mistake – the remains that were on the teeth went splashing onto Cheryl's pants. 'Great, Greg, that's never coming out.'

'Sorry,' he winced, 'I'll make it up to you.'

'Oh, I know you will, don't worry,' Cheryl's eyes glinted mischievously.

'Oh, please, will you two get a room, already,' complained Sara, as she returned her attention to the crime scene.

'Jealous?' Asked Greg.

Sara ignored him, bending down to pick something up.

'I've run a check on the building,' said the blonde detective, 'it's been empty for months. Junkies have been using it, mainly. Had a call out to it a few months back. Reports of someone inside the building, but there was no sign of forced entry. The house has just been sold, but the paperwork hasn't gone through as to who the house has been sold to.'

'Well the dead guy had to get in here somewhere,' Sara told the other blonde, with something which Cheryl thought sounded like sarcasm lining her tone? 'I'll check outside.' Without waiting for anything, Sara picked up her kit and walked out.

The blonde sighed and muttered something under her breath, which Cheryl didn't quite catch.

Cheryl bagged the teeth and turned her attention to the detective, 'I'd shake your hand, but there's no point in both of us being covered in this gunk. I'm Detective Cheryl Carter.'

'You're a detective working a crime scene?'

'Oh, yeah. Sorry. I transferred from Miami. It's not unusual for a CSI to be a detective too. I keep forgetting that the same thing doesn't apply out here, especially when I'm still carrying a gun.'

'Sofia Curtis.' She introduced herself, 'yeah, I know the feeling, except the other way around. I used to be a CSI. It's hard to walk into a crime scene and remember that I'm not there to process it sometimes.'

Cheryl smiled and glanced at the bath. All the liquid was pretty much out now. 'I can see there being some advantages to no longer having to process certain crime scenes. I should empty this out. I don't think that Sara would be happy if she came back and saw it wasn't done.'

Sofia chuckled, 'you're probably right. I'm going to see if I can follow up on who the house belongs to. I'll see you later.' She left the building, leaving Cheryl staring at various pieces of bones, some pieces of fabric, and a couple of buttons. She bagged them all, taped the lids firmly on the buckets and then pulled off her gloves.

Sara walked back into the bathroom, and dumped her kit near to the evidence Cheryl had piled up. 'It looks like our vic, or his killer, entered through the kitchen window. I got a few partials.'

'I got footprints,' added Greg, holding up his evidence.

'Well done, Greg,' Sara said, with something that sounded like sarcasm in her voice, again. 'Just load up the truck, okay.' She swept out leaving Cheryl and Greg staring at the pile of evidence.

'Funner, eh?' Grumbled Cheryl, as she and Greg gathered up the evidence and proceeded to make the several trips needed to load it into the trunk. When the evidence was firmly secured, and the coroners van had left with the decomposing slop, Cheryl turned her attention to Eddie. She pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket and looked at the address on it.

'So, what's your address?' Greg asked her.

'14507 Nevada Way.'

'Well, we're on Nevada Way.' Greg told her, shining his torch on the mailbox across the road.

'Great.' Grumbled Cheryl, 'I'd best not be able to smell that sodding decomp from my house.'

'What's grass got to do with anything?'

'What did you say the number was?' Sara interrupted.

'14507.'

'Sorry to tell you this, but you are definitely going to be able to smell that decomp.' Sara told her, a slight smile on her face.

'Please don't tell me that I live next to it.'

'Nope, you live in it.' She shone her torch on the crooked mailbox, the metallic numbers glinting back at her.

Cheryl looked down at the paper, then to the mailbox. Then she kicked it, cursing loudly, firstly at the situation, then at the pain in her foot.