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Doctor Snark Goes Forth (episode four)
by gena
Doc Snark Goes Forth
(Episode the Fourth)
They were pinned down in the trenches, held prisoner by disease, surrounded by suffering, and fending off attacks of depression. Sure, to the uninformed it looked like they were merely lolling about in their nice comfy chairs in House's office, eating ice cream bars and reading outdated issues of People Magazine, but they were engaged in war! That was the story they'd worked out and presented to Cuddy anyway.
"I still can't believe Nicole and Paris's friendship just ended like that," Wilson said with a sad shake of his head.
"Happens to the best," House replied, a cold sense of dread washing over him at the thought of losing Wilson's friendship like that!! No, wait, he'd just dripped ice cream on his groin. House went back to blithely licking - his cone, Wilson was nowhere near him. It had been a hectic week; crushing the evil Darth Vogler, dealing with his arch nemesis Party Pant, sewing costumes for the Ducklings, and initiating Wilson into the delights of wearing spandex. Yes, Gregory House had done his share for Truth, Justice and The Homosexual Agenda (if Bush was to be believed). He was looking forward to a nice relaxing weekend of cane twirling, yo-yoing, iPoding, Gameboying, piano playing, and initiating Wilson into other things but Fate was about to intervene in the way it often did in bad television shows, the kind UPN specialized in.
"House!"
Dr. Lisa Cuddy's breasts, followed closely by Cuddy, entered the room, waving a collection of files around - Cuddy, not her breasts. "We have an epidemic."
"Again?" House sighed. "It's always an epidemic. First we had thousands of people dropping from Brangelina Overexposure, then that bout of Tomkat Fever what the hell could it be now?"
"If I knew that I wouldn't have to force you to figure it out, would I?" Cuddy demanded. She shot him a glare, which bounced off House's cool Ray-Bans and ricocheted around the room. "Get your crippled ass down to the clinic and solve this mystery."
"My ass is fine," House snarled, peering over the top of his sun glasses at her.
"It is," Wilson concurred. "Very." He smiled, blushing in a cute, boyish way, and winked at House. Cuddy rounded on him.
"And you! Why the hell are you always hanging around in House's office? Do you not have anything to do? " Looking Heavenward she said, "Why did I let them talk me into a connecting balcony? What was I thinking?"
"Maybe you were thinking that Wilson and I only have each other," House said quietly, "That two lonely people might deserve a chance together, no matter the odds, no matter the improbability." He looked over at Wilson, his brilliant blue eyes solemn and soft, a small smile on his lips. "Maybe you were thinking that I could never have gone on without my only friend, the one person in my life who's never walked away, who cares about me enough to give up everything for me and never ask for anything in return."
A loud sniffle echoed around the room and Cuddy dashed at her eyes with a trembling hand. "Just get down there," she said and turned on her heel, wobbling out the door and down the hall sobbing.
House grinned at her retreating back. "The one thing I am sure of is that you weren't thinking about Wilson and I using it to have wild monkey sex during our lunch hour."
"I heard that!" Both men jerked to their feet, Wilson helping House up after he fell over. "Get off your ass and get to work!" Cuddy's voice echoed back to them.
"Damn her enhanced senses," House cursed.
"How'd Cuddy become Party Pants?" Wilson asked. He'd never heard the story and his asking gives us the chance for a nice bit of exposition.
"Once she was just a lowly med student named Lisa Cuddy," House began, "then one night, working alone in the lab, she was bitten by a radioactive frat student. She underwent a bizarre transformation - morphing from mousey student to a hot-mama anyone would love to party-harty with if given a chance. From that moment on she's been able to smell a good time from three hundred yards away, root out the slightest whiff of amusement, uncover the faintest of pleasures and," House shuddered violently, "in an ironic twist, quash it with a freezing look from her deadly eyes."
Wilson gave him an adoring, yet skeptical, look then asked "So, we heading to the clinic?"
House shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. There's no vaccine for stupidity but I guess we can give it a try." The two doctors exited House's office, making their way along the corridor as they had a million times before - except for the holding hands and giggling, that was new. The hallways were suspiciously clear, the strange sight of House actually smiling had frightened most of the nurses, they thought he'd gone insane or something. The clinic staff, on the other hand, knew House was insane so they remained firmly at their posts, tranquilizer guns at the ready, but willing to go with it unless he turned on them. Each doctor chose a patient; Wilson going alphabetically, House throwing a dart and taking the patient he struck, and disappeared into an exam room.
It was at that exact moment, when Wilson was curing deadly diseases, dispensing life saving medicine and beating off amorous advances of all description that House found out exactly what lay behind the faade of evil, the sham of sinister intent - or Vile Vogler as he was known around the hospital. House had just dismissed his third annoying patient, noting the baffling symptoms each had in common; runny nose, multi colored spots dancing before their eyes, convulsions, and a tendency to break into On the Good Ship Lollipop at inopportune moments, when it hit him. It being his own cane applied to the back of his head. House barely had time to snark out a "You!" before pitching forward in an untidy but, still sexy, heap on the floor.
"Thank you," Wilson said, smiling at the nurse without even thinking about it. Her instant dreamy expression made him realize his mistake and quickly look away. He had to remember not to subject females to the full force of his devastating smile, House had warned him often enough, and it was the cause of several of his divorces - well, that and his habit of spending his wedding nights at House's apartment. He picked up the stack of patient files House had completed during their three hours in the clinic - three files marked WEIRD SHIT. "Umm, has Dr. House checked out yet?" He had his own files typed, indexed, and collated - every one of the two hundred and five patients he had done - and wanted to compare them to House's findings.
"I believe Dr. House is still in Exam One," the nurse said. "His patient was wheeled down to the quarantine ward about forty-five minutes ago." She knew that for a fact because she'd heard the woman's outraged shout followed by a burst of 'Where bon-bons play on the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay'. Wilson frowned. It wasn't like House to waste time in an exam room without a patient - unless he was taking a nap or watching TV, or waiting for Wilson to wander in and engage in some light banter rife with homoerotic innuendo. A chill ran through Wilson and he rushed to Exam One, pushing open the door. The room was empty! At least he thought it was empty until, with a crash of that bizarre unearthly music that seemed to follow any extraordinary discovery, his eye lit on House's cane! A suspicious red smear could be seen on the curve of its handle. The cold dread which had accompanied Wilson into the room swelled within his breast becoming a raging yeti of fear, he would have taken off his shirt to make room for the swelling but I fear your lust has frightened him.
"Call security!" Wilson shouted, momentarily forgetting security at PPTH was an eighty three year old guy named Stan who's canine partner was a three legged Yorkie. The click of Stan's walker across the lobby floor quickly snapped Wilson back to reality and he knew he had to call out the big guns or in this case, the big boobs. "Call Cuddy!"
"What's House done now?" Cuddy shouted the instant she, and her breasts, emerged from her office.
"Disappeared!" Wilson told her.
"Oh god," Cuddy clenched both fists in her hair. "The last time I had to chase him down they wanted to hire me at that strip bar. He's not stuffing dollar bills in anyone's panties again, is he?"
Cameron, drawn to the clinic by the commotion, blushed guiltily. "Uh, well, you see, we have this agreement -"
"You too?" Chase asked.
"Oh, I see," Foreman sniped, "he's never stuffed money in my panties! It's because I'm black, isn't it?"
"House is missing," Wilson said, "he's not checking out strippers, he's not sexually harassing his staff," he raised cane.....get it? and shook it at Cuddy. "He's been abducted!" An eerie stillness fell over the room then there was a quick smattering of applause and some restrained whoops of joy from the nurses before Wilson mustered his Pissy Death Glare( and they all fell silent again. "We have to find him."
"Well, you know it's a big city," Cuddy hedged.
"He's a drug addict," Foreman snapped, then shrugged, "just thought I'd throw that in."
"If he doesn't come back can I work for you?" Chase asked Wilson.
"My Aunt Irma was an Indian scout," Cameron said, "she taught me all the tricks of her trade, hence the dollars in the panties, and I will not rest until we find him because he's damaged and vulnerable and I love him!"
Wilson shot her the Eyebrows of Doom but Cameron's Righteous Light of Love protected her like a glowing umbrella of fuzzy feelings. Getting nowhere and running low on angry expressions he finally just rolled his eyes and said, "We have to figure out who abducted him."
"How?" Chase asked and everyone looked to the boyish oncologist for an answer.
Wilson grinned, "What would House do?" Fifteen minutes later he and the ducklings were gathered in House's office. Wilson had made himself comfortable in House's yellow chair and sat twirling House's cane, occasionally yelping when he smacked himself in the eye, but then again he'd never been a baton twirler for his high school band like House had. Cameron had perched herself on the corner of the desk, House's favorite yo-yo dangling from her finger in a mess of string that could have been mistaken for a Gorgonian knot. Foreman, from his position on the floor, was glaring at everyone else, especially Chase because he'd called dibs on the oversized tennis ball and was now smacking it against the wall in a very annoying manner.
"How long to we have to do this?" Foreman demanded.
"Look," Wilson said, carefully laying the cane across the ottoman, the footstool, not the empire, "it's either sit here until we get one of those "House-instant-moments-of-insight" or we break out the costumes and let Wonder Boy and the Duck Tones hit the streets."
Cameron yo-yoed faster, Chase practically set up some kind of handball court and Foreman stared determinedly at the ceiling. Wilson allowed himself a small smile. He often envied House his little group of flunkies; making them do the grunt work, ridiculing them, hammering home his own brand of ethics in his unethical way, making them wear duck costumes and solve medical mysteries - yes it would be great having three minions at your beck and call day and night. He could make them do anything he wanted.....anything......Suddenly Wilson wasn't sure he liked the idea of House having such easy access to three hot young docs, all basically indentured servants, forced to do as they were told.
"What's wrong, Dr. Wilson," Cameron asked, moving closer, large blue suddenly hooded as a cobra's and hopeful venom dripping from her smile. She could smell emotionally vulnerable men like porkchops and the gleam in her eye told Wilson she would like nothing more than for him to doubt the veracity of his relationship with House. But now that he was thinking about it just how real was his relationship with House? Sure, they'd had sex in the little red 'vette, on House's desk, on Cuddy's desk, in the supply closet, in Exam One, on the roof, in the maternity lounge, in the MRI machine, under Mark Warner's bed, between floors on the elevator, in the lunch line, and on the connecting balcony but House had never told Wilson how he felt about him! House must care about him, right? He never said anything, but that was just House. Manly men didn't talk about things like feelings, and they were manly men. Okay, so sometimes they talked about high fashion and the new furniture in the oncology lounge but still, they were men and talking about undying love just wasn't how they expressed themselves - they just drank beer and watched TV and had wild monkey sex on the furniture and knew in their hearts that they were meant to be together forever, right?
Wilson conjured a smile, "Nothing's wrong. Why would anything be wrong?" Cameron smirked right up until he "accidentally" smacked her with House's cane. "Sorry, novice twirler."
Meanwhile in a secret underground lab on the other side of the city........
"Oooh, 'm swear'n off drink.....'n drugs.....'n snortin' cold medicine....'n hookers....'n doin' Wilson -"
"WHAT!!??"
Gregory House cracked open one eye and peered up at whatever had made that unearthly screech. The sight which greeted him made both brilliantly intense cerulean, flecked with navy and indigo, laser sharp penetrating blue eyes snap open like Cameron's pinstriped vest when she took a deep breath. "You!" he gasped dj vu-y. "I should have known you were the Evil Mastermind behind all the - uh, evil." A chilling laugh rendered him - well, chilled. "Vogler might have been rich and impotent -"
"Omnipotent?"
"No, believe me when I say impotent," House said with a sad shake of his head, "but let me finish my tirade."
"By all means."
"Vogler might have been rich and impotent but I knew he couldn't be the brains behind an epidemic like the one loose in Princeton Plainsboro right now. No, that would take someone with no regard for human life, someone bereft of compassion, someone able to manipulate people like pawns, a person so vile, so loathsome they could only be described as-," House sneered at his capture, "I can't even bring myself to say it."
House flinched as the figure moved closer, looming over him - did I mention he was hog-tied and lying on the floor? He was naked too, his lean body all sweaty and gleaming and manly, muscles rippling as he struggled against the bonds which held him. It was hopeless but House never gave up, so let me repeat - muscles rippling, sweat gleaming, House writhing - thick ropes tied his wrist together, his hands were cupped protectively over his ample manhood, providing the only barrier between the world and Greg House's jaw-dropping....hee hee, Wilson says so anyway....assets. The evil figure moved closer, menace shining in two cold eyes. "I'm going to make you pay, House."
"You want a check?" House asked. "Sorry, must be in my other pants - ooops, I'm not wearing pants! Let's get this over with, do your worst, I can take it." The menacing figure advanced. "Uh, before you start I couldn't have a Vicodin or fifteen, could I?"
"No."
"A double scotch?"
"No."
"A dime bag of Benydril?"
"No."
"Could I at least watch an episode of Still Standing?"
"Huh?"
"It's boring, you know," House said, "it would leave me numb."
"No."
"Okay, fine. I can still take it." House gulped. "Just don't leave a mark, Wilson gets upset."
With a roar of rage, the figure flung itself at House.
Cuddy bounced into the room clad in her Party Pants costume. "Any word on Captain Cripple?"
"He goes by Doctor Snark," Wilson reminded her.
"Whatever. Has anyone threatened to return him? I've taken up a collection and we have seven thousand dollars if they'll keep him," she said.
"That's not very nice," Wilson told her. "House is the best doctor you have. He cares about his patients. He's willing to lie, cheat and steal to save their lives." Wilson paused, frowning. That didn't sound so great now that he said it out loud. "Sure he toys with their emotions and plays God with their health but he saves them. Okay, yes, they usually have a near death experience, but it just makes them appreciate being alive so much more. Gregory House is noble and sexy as hell. He might be off putting, gruff, cantankerous, misanthropic, myopic, and horribly tall but underneath all that beats - a heart - and - he has a liver." Wilson chewed his bottom lip for a moment, racking his brain for other compliments he could heap on House.
"He - has nice penmanship," Cameron chipped in.
"Yes! You can almost read his writing," Wilson agreed, "he can't spell but, that's not a crime - unless he was posting on LiveJournal. See, Party Pants, we need House."
Cuddy sighed, "Fine, but I'm keeping the cash." She stuffed the wad of bills down her cleavage. It disappeared from sight as if falling down a well. No longer relevant to the plot, she threw herself in one of the chairs and busied herself with polishing the weapons she carried on her utility belt while the others went back to solving the mystery of the disappearing House.
Gathered around the files House had marked WEIRD SHIT, the four doctors studied them from every angel. "I'm getting a kink in my neck," Chase complained. As the youngest - his age in Australian years not meshing with the way it's figured in America - and most flexible he was swinging from the overhead light, peering down at the report. Cameron had chosen to stand on the table while Foreman circled in a crouch. Wilson, as House proxy, was sprawled across a couple of chairs slurping coffee from the red mug and making random observations.
"Glass walls, it just seems wrong - like cats wearing pants," he murmured. "I mean, ferrets, sure, I'm all for it, but cats?"
"Dr. Wilson," Foreman snarled, even someone pretending to House annoyed him. "We need to focus on these reports." He tapped one of the x-rays. "Look at this nodule. It's on the hypo-melodramaticous, pressing into the xylophone spectraoblongtwiddle. A person in this condition would be exhibiting symptoms for months there would be no sudden onset."
"What about his crestfallen panthoradic response?" Chase asked, tumbling off the light fixture to sprawl on the table.
"Normal."
"And his monosodium wattage index?" Cameron inquired.
"Normal as well," Foreman said. Everyone but Wilson, who was now speculating on the viability of parrots wearing galoshes, scratched their collective heads. "All these patients," Foreman shoved the huge stack Wilson had done in the clinic, "their symptoms don't add up. There's no reason they should be harmonizing on Shirley Temple tunes."
"Unless, parrots like the rain," Wilson said. Three sets of eyes, let's assume it was two apiece and that no one was an alien or the victim of a bad transplant, swiveled to stare at Wilson. He stared back, a wide grin spread across his boyish yet mature and sexually magnetic, features. "I know where House is." The eyes continued to stare but now they were joined by three mouths, all open in various configurations.
"Where?" Cameron breathed.
"How?" Chase demanded.
"I can add twelve hundred to the pot," Foreman said, pulling out his wallet. Wilson and Cameron glared at him. "It's because I'm black, isn't it?"
"There's only one person every single patient who's come through PPTH could have come in contact with," Wilson said.
"Uh, House?"
"No," Wilson said, "think about it, House wouldn't get that close to patients. Sick people come in here and we know what happens to sick people here, don't we?" Cuddy rolled her eyes. "They have convulsions and almost die, that's what happens to them." He stood, ripping open his shirt as the unseen orchestra blasted that damn dramatic music again, revealing his green spandex Wonder Boy costume. "After patients nearly die they go to see the nearest lawyer!"
Gasps of disbelief filled the room - not because of what Wilson had said but because that crash of dramatic music had caused Foreman and Chase to throw themselves into each others arms. They were grinning at each other, hands roaming over pressed white lab coats, legs tangled as they struggled for balance. It took them a moment to notice that the room had gone utterly silent. Both young hot doctors glanced around. Chase blushed but said, "It's because he's black." Foreman grinned.
"Okay, whatever," Cuddy said but the look she gave Chase made him think she might be dismantling her bedroom shrine in the near future. "So you think some evil lawyer has kidnapped House?"
"Not just some evil lawyer," Wilson declared, "Stacy Warner, Evil Lawyer Extraordinaire!" His dark brown eyes dared anyone to disagree but they all knew her so they couldn't. "Quick Ducklings, we must rescue Doctor Snark!"
"Oooh, do we have to?" Foreman asked. "I have to get my tire rotated."
"Do you think she's spanking him?" Chase asked with a dreamy expression. Foreman gave the young Aussie a speculative look and Chase quickly shook himself from his fantasies. "I mean in a bad way - not like, you know, people might like that sort of thing."
Cameron, flinging her white coat off to reveal her snazzy yellow Duckling costume, shouted, "We've got to save him! House is so damaged, his fragile psyche can not possibly withstand that bitch's brutal assault. Oh, House," she murmured, "I'll save you from her clutches. I'll take you home and hold you and pet you and feed you - ouch!"
"Sorry," Wilson growled, deftly swinging House's cane. "Now, you two," he pointed to Foreman and Chase, "get into your Duckling costumes and we'll go save House."
"We don't even know where he is," Cuddy pointed out. "She could be holding him anywhere!"
"Like - a secret underground lab on the other side of town?" Wilson said. The others all shrugged and followed Wilson out of the office. With cunning and stealth, the five costumed doctors made their way along the hallways of PPTH, each completely focused, every sense honed to a razor sharp edge, intent on his or her role in the rescue mission - until they passed the pediatrics' lounge and they noticed - "Cookies!" There was a brief scuffle but soon they were on their way again, faces smeared with chocolate, but determined to free House. Wilson led them down a corridor and paused beside a door marked STACY WARNER HOSPITAL LAWYER. Yes, yes, I know it's not really a secret underground lab but then they'd have to get in the car and drive and there would be a search and the story would bog down and - well, just go with me on this.
Stacy's office, or lair as it should correctly be labeled, was on the first floor. Now for people across the pond, the first floor is the ground floor not the second floor which is the first floor, Chase being from Australia wasn't really sure which floor they were on but with Foreman's hand cupping his right buttock it didn't seem to matter to him.
"Sssh," Wilson whispered and pressed his ear against the wood door. He was still for several moments then gave the signal. With shouts of QUACK! PARTY-ON! and WHAT HO? the five doctors/superheroes crashed through the door and into Stacy's office. "Ohmygod!" Wilson cried. Stacy stood over the supine, naked body of PPTH's preeminent diagnostician. Chase and Foreman rushed forward, pinning Stacy's arms behind her back, allowing Cameron to rough her up a bit. House lay motionless, his hands cupping his genitals in a way Wilson found particularly attractive and took a second to appreciate before throwing himself on House and checking for signs of life - in his own unique way.
"Uh, Doctor Wilson," Cuddy said, "I think when you perform CPR you're suppose to blow into his mouth."
"I'm working my way up."
"It's too late!" Stacy shouted. "I used my Evil Oratory powers to bore him to death." She glared at Wilson. "I thought by coming back here House would see what he's been missing! Sure I ordered Cuddy to cut off half his leg and then dumped him when I realized we'd never win the Cha-Cha competition again. I went on to find myself a pale imitation of a man, contrive to have him treated by my ex-lover and then callously confided my continuing sexual obsession to said ex-lover and you know what I got in return?"
Wilson shrugged, "A badge in Cameron's No One Likes Me club?"
Cameron and Stacy both snarled at him.
"I got told YOU were the love of his life!"
"I am!" Wilson said with quiet intensity. He looked up, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "My love is unstoppable and everlasting and it's my real superpower - well, I also possess Eyebrows of Doom, but the producers of the Dead Poet's Society frown upon me squandering that power. So, in reality my ability to love is pretty damn impressive. It's gotten me several wives and also a hell of a lot of alimony but I can use it to save House now."
"He's dead," Foreman pointed out, "he's passed on. He is no more. House is, in fact, a dead person."
"No," Wilson assured him, "he's only resting....I mean, my love can bring him back from the brink of death." They all nodded, rolling their eyes only when Wilson turned his attention back to House's still form.
"Are you sure you shouldn't do that a bit higher up?" Cuddy asked but Wilson, having his mouth busy, didn't answer. For long moments the only sounds in the room were Wilson's labored breaths, Stacy's foot tapping impatiently, Cuddy's gum snapping, Cameron humming I Feel Pretty and Chase and Foreman kissing - I mean, Chase and Foreman discussing football scores or something. Just when they were all ready to have Wilson arrested for something people shouldn't do to other people who might be dead, House shuddered and gasped.
"You're alive!" Wilson shouted.
"And happy to see you," House groaned. "Why are all these people in my bedroom?"
"Uh, we're in Stacy's lair," Cameron said, kneeling next to him despite Wilson's shove. "She tried to kill you."
"Okay. Why am I naked?"
They all looked at Stacy. "You were wearing some kind of shiny silver suit with your underwear on the outside," she said. "I was just doing you a favor, Greg. You looked like a gay rodeo clown."
"Thanks," he growled. Pushing himself to his feet and leaning heavily on Wilson, House faced his ex-girlfriend. "You really thought you could take revenge on me by causing an epidemic and then kidnapping, and torturing me?"
Stacy gave her chilling laugh again, "Yes! Well, the kidnapping and torture was kind of a bonus - a little present to myself for a job well done. I caused an epidemic then took you out of the equation. I knew everyone would die and the hospital would be shut down. When everything you have ever cared about was only a smoldering pile of rubble you're naked and drug filled body would be found. You would be vilified, and as a result wander the state as a broken lonely and bitter man -"
"He's already a broken, lonely and bitter man," Cuddy pointed out.
"Still, when you're no longer employed Wilson will get tired of supporting you and his other wives and being to cheat on you. I know you House, you're ego couldn't take that and you would snap. One night when Wilson comes home smelling of Marilyn Manson's new fragrance, you'll strangle him with his own tie."
"That's a lovely little scenario," House said, limping around the lair, proudly displaying his - superior knowledge. "But I've solved the mystery of the epidemic. You, as a lawyer, have access to fountain pens. It was quite easy for you to coat each pen with phisolamdatop which as we all know causes severe sensory distortion. When all the victims began singing On the Good Ship Lollipop I realized they must have been in your office and seen the ship you built out of lollipop sticks as extra credit when attempting to pass the bar." He gave her a smug grin and she gave him a kick in the goolies.
Wilson lunged for her but Chase and Foreman hauled her away before he could slap her face. "This isn't the last you've heard from me," Stacy vowed.
"Oh House," Cameron gushed. "I knew you would solve this case. And to do so buck naked," she leered at him, "what huge - talent you have!"
"Down girl!" Wilson snapped. "House has been through a terrible ordeal and needs to rest - lying down with absolutely no clingy woman hovering over him - so just back off." He handed House his cane and together the two of them walked out of the lair. The last sight Cuddy and Cameron had of them was of House's bare ass disappearing into the elevator.
"Damn," Cameron cried. "All I ever wanted was someone to like me. Is that asking too much? I'm kind and cute and I make good money, why can't anyone love me?"
Cuddy sighed, "Well, you're kind of annoying. Still, you are cute. Want to have sex?"
Cameron stared at her then shrugged, "Okay." They went to Cuddy's office, kicked off their high heels and made passionate love. Two floors above them Chase and Foreman were sprawled in the MRI machine seeing if they could get actual proof of a post orgasmic afterglow on film. And our heroes? House and Wilson climbed into the little red 'vette, House yelping as his bare butt met the cold leather seat.
"I knew you'd find me," he said in uncharacteristic seriousness.
"It took deductive reasoning, keen observation skills and intuitive knowledge," Wilson said proudly, "but we figured it out."
"Why didn't you just read the clue I left?" House asked.
"What clue?"
House held up his cane. Wilson looked from the cane to House and back. "Right there," House said, pointing to the red smear on the handle. Wilson leaned in closer. There scrawled in House's own blood in the last instances of consciousness, just seconds before he blacked out, somehow he had managed to write out a cryptic message designed to point his friends in the right direction - STACY WARNER, MY EX-GIRLFIREND AND NOW THORN IN MY SIDE, SNUCK INTO THE EXAM ROOM AND TRIED TO KILL ME WITH MY OWN CANE.
"Oh."
Secure in the knowledge that all was right with the world, Vogler and Stacy had both been stopped, and everyone was having sex, House and Wilson drove away from Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Unfortunately they were unaware that something worse loomed on the horizon, something no one had foreseen - House's parents were coming for a visit!!
Cue the bizarre but dramatic music.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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