Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or CSI: Miami. The smell of death is strong here.
Sorry for the delay.
"So you got into a fight with your band member?" Calleigh asked the lead singer of the band, who was also the rhythm guitarist.
"Uh…" He looked puzzled. "That's what I just said."
"Right. And that would explain how both of your blood ended up on the floor?"
"I... just said that… too."
"Right. And what does he say?" Sara pointed to the bassist.
"Nothing. The bassist's a mute." The drummer answered for him.
"OH, really?" Speedle asked.
The drummer blinked. "YEAH, really."
Grissom looked over at the drummer suspiciously. "But that doesn't explain how your semen ended up on the ground along with-"
"IWANTALAWYER!" The guy quickly interrupted Grissom.
Greg stared at Grissom. "What are you doing?"
"This process…" Grissom said, trailing off in concentration. He put a rat in the centrifuge. Then he turned it on, and it spun, speed increasing with every few seconds. Greg stared.
After a minute or two, the poor rodent was completely liquid. Grissom proceeded to pour the goo into a large test tube. Greg stared.
Grissom poked a few different objects into the vile-looking muck. He put a sample under a microscope, fiddling with the dials. After that, Grissom tasted a sample of it. Greg stared.
"If I didn't know any better, Greg, I'd say this rat had sort of bubonic plague!" Grissom looked slightly surprised. He seemed to be in deep thought. Greg stared, unblinking.
"GUESS WHAT?!" Delko jumped into the room (clearly violating what was recommended to him about sugar consumption.)
"You're getting plastic surgery?" Grissom barely seemed to be paying any attention to him.
"Noooooo!"
"Security will come in a minute if you don't-"
"The lead singer of the band was having a fling with our faceless guy's girlfriend!"
Greg finally broke his stare at Grissom (a line of drool had gone down his chin). He looked over at Delko and blinked, first the left eye blinking and then the right one following a second later. "So… that means…" Greg thought for a minute, exercising his neurons to their fullest extent. "He's a suspect now, right?"
"He was always a suspect. Greg, go down to the nearest medical drama and ask to borrow a cup of the antidote for Black Death. I'm going to go see what other plagues this rat had. Then I'm going to put the leftover rat-goo in a vial and wear it as a necklace." Grissom sighed, thinking happily about wearing liquid rat around his neck.
"What did that rat have to do with our current case?" Delko asked as Greg obeyed his master.
"Hmmm… Grissom thought for a moment.
"Well?"
"Sorry, I never know how long a dramatic pause is supposed to be. The rat was the pet of the bassist."
"'Kay. Can I go now?"
"Where are you in a hurry to, Eric?" Grissom narrowed his eyes.
"Um, when you do that thing with the eyes, I can't lie anymore. I'm going to go make out with Calleigh in the bathroom." Delko confessed.
"Use protection."
Delko thought for a moment. "Um… bulletproof vests?"
Grissom looked shocked. "You need a bulletproof vest to make out with her? Oh, wow. Whatever floats your boat."
Greg should stay away from those Grey's Anatomy people, you never know what they'll do.