Making Lemonade

CSIFO March 2016 Fan Fiction Challenge (csiforeveronline dot wikifoundry dot com)


The rules are simple:
~ One-Shot - any length but only 1 post per story
~ Any of the CSI characters from the original series, either living or dead
~ At least 2 of our beloved CSI characters must appear in the story
~ Any Genre - AU, Fantasy, Crime, Comedy, Drama, Western, Historical, etc.
~ No cross-over with any other CSI series or show

Chosen Prompt: What do you mean we're out of lemons

Setting: Early Season 5, before the team is divided by Ecklie.

Disclaimer: None of the characters or the concept of CSI are mine, I'm just playing with them a little.

"What do you mean we're out of lemons?"

Gil Grissom's voice came from behind him, deceptively smooth and soft, letting Greg Sanders know that his supervisor had found the note he'd left in the team's shared locker and that he was in deep trouble.

"Every Sunday, one of the night shift replenishes our stock of lemons or lemon juice, whichever is most available. This week was your turn, Greg, and I remember you bringing in a good sized bag at assignments. That was three days ago, and there has not been any bodies that require their use – until tonight. So, please, explain to me how we can be out of lemons?"

The blond tech-turned-CSI fought a cringe at the tone as he slowly turned to face the decidedly disheveled man behind him. Quickly plastering on a welcoming smile, he rocked back and forth on his heels, breathing shallowly to avoid the pungent odor of decay that wafted from the Graveyard supervisor.

"You know I was covering a half-shift in Trace for swing shift today?" he half-asked, half-reminded the older man. Getting a raised brow in answer, he hurriedly continued. "Well, Dorsey forgot to tell me that there was a junior high school tour tonight, for the forensics club? And that he was supposed to lead the group and set up the refreshments. Five minutes before he's out the door, he fills me in." Greg shook his head, a sour look on his face. "The labs all knew the kids were coming, so anything inappropriate was hidden away, and the snacks were all ready and waiting in the breakroom ... but the drinks didn't arrive with the shipment for some reason. Sooo ... since this was a real lemon situation, I made lemonade." A sheepish shrug concluded the young man's story.

Grissom shook his head, thinking 'only Sanders'. "I wish you'd said something earlier. I'd have made sure we picked some up on the way to the scene."

"I'm really sorry, Griss – wait, don't you always keep a bottle of juice in your locker?" Greg asked in confusion, surprised that the senior CSI had been caught unprepared for once.

A small smirk curled the blue-eyed man's lips. "Oh, I do. It's almost empty, however, only enough for me to deodorize. Luckily for me, I was on the periphery when the rookie cop knocked over the container that held our decomposing body." The smirk grew as realization and dread bloomed in the younger man's eyes. "Sara and Catherine were ... up close and personal with the situation." A vision of the fiery redhead knocked prone with a bloated corpse laying in her lap, and the beautiful brunette standing in horrified shock at the wave of 'liquids' that had drenched her completely, flashed through his mind. The laughter he'd valiantly fought off earlier, nearly bubbled up again at Greg's terrified visage.

"Oh, my gawd ... did they kill him?" he squeaked out.

"No, though it might have been kinder to the dressing down they gave him." Grissom had been truly impressed at the invective that had spilled from both ladies' lips as they ripped the rookie several new ones for his clumsiness. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was filling out shift transfer papers back at PD."

Gulping and peering around his supervisor with trepidation, the younger CSI asked tremulously, "Wh-Where are they?"

"Sara and Cath? They sent me in with the evidence and opted to ride in with David, to help preserve any evidence they might be wearing, and then use the decontamination showers in the morgue." Seeing Sanders start to sag in relief, the senior CSI gently disabused him. "They don't have any of their special soap, something about mislabeled inventory, David said. When the ladies get up here, they'll be clean, and in clean scrubs, but unfortunately still as fragrant as ever."

"I'll leave now, get more lemons, let them know I'll be right–"


The two men winced at the shrill voice echoing through the hallways from the direction of the locker room.

"I think I'll let you explain, Greg, since you're so good at making lemonade out of lemons," Grissom murmured with a gentle pat on the young man's shoulder, before nudging him in the direction of the fuming women. "I'll get someone to go buy some more lemons." With that, the supervisor slipped away before he could get caught up in the confrontation he knew was coming. Spying one of the lab's interns, he pulled several twenties from his wallet as he flagged the young woman down. Behind him, he could hear Greg's voice attempting a jovial greeting.

"He-ey, Cath, Sara ... I was just about to, um ..."

"What do you mean we're out of lemons?!"