"Grissom, Over here. I found some cast off."
"Well done Nick. Judging by the angle and size our killer was probably moving at only walking speed."
Nick expertly swabs and adds reagent. Nothing. It's not blood.
"Get a sample to trace."
"I'm on it."
"Nick, while we wait for Hodges, how do you fancy a bit of hot man love?"
"I'm the cute white straight guy remember? But just this once I'll let you toss my salad"
"Salad ... Beetroot... It's fucking beetroot!"
"Cancel Hodges then?"
Something tells me I'm going to have to work on it a bit if I'm to become a slash fiction writer...
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