Jump to content

Differential Diagnosis; House MD - (3 Parts)


Cloud Dancing

Recommended Posts

Hey everyone....I know this is not a new story but as some of you may know, I left you hanging last time. Your will be pleased to know I have finished it, and thought I would repost it, it its new, splendid edited glory and finally put your minds at ease! :rolleyes: Im still not convinced its perfect but its my first offical story so all comments are welcome....plus I'm looking for suggestions for my next story...so have a think. Okay, enough preamble, here we go...enjoy! :innocent:

Title: Differential Diagnosis

Fandom: House MD

Characters: House and Wilson, and the general quackings of the ducklings in the background.

Disclaimer: Lord only knows what I would do if I owned House or any of its characters. Actually the thought is so exciting I can hardly process it.

Summary: House finds himself under unwelcome scrutiny when he can't fight a off a cold or his friend.

The digital clock chimed loudly in the dark room. The illuminated numbers flashed brightly and cheerily from the bed side table. The room came swimming into his peripheral vision as Gregory House opened his eyes. He was dimly aware of the light filtering through the heavy grey curtains as his senses started to function. Immediately, as if he had been electrocuted, his leg convulsed agonisingly and House let out an involuntary hiss of pain. Hoping to massage it into submission with his right hand, his other hand searched on the bed side table for the stronger form of relief, the bright orange vicodin bottle that seemed to glow in the dim light of the bedroom. Finally seizing it, he popped two and dry swallowed them without missing so much as a beat. He allowed his head to flop back onto the pillow. His successful pill searching hand now flopped onto his forehead and too House’s slight surprise he registered his forehead felt warm, despite the fact the surrounding air was cold. Only momentarily curious, the pain in his leg brought him back to the pressing issue of the how to distract himself until the vicodin kicked in. House reached up and took down his cane he had hung on the top of the head board, and began to swing it through his fingers, rotating it over and over again in his left hand as his right clasped his leg in a vice like grip. House, temporarily immobile whilst he waited for the vicodin to release the searing pain in his leg and watched the ceiling, consumed once more with the fact that today, just like every other day his leg would hurt. It was going to be another long day. He would be in pain today.

But it was more than that, today something else was requesting the attention of the vicodin, it was going to have to deal with 2 types of pain. House noticed a blunt ache that was lingered behind his eyes as he looked at the ceiling, dryness in his throat and a hardly noticeable yet persistent tickle in his nose. House, momentarily distracted, relishing the chance to entertain himself, did a kind of miniature differential diagnosis as he tapped his cane thoughtfully against the headboard. After a few minutes of eliminating possible candidates, and after a soft chuckle as he chucked Lupus into the imaginary diagnostic bin, House came up with two possibilities. The first was environmental allergens, which was entirely possible and preferable, because he could milk it for just the right amount of attention which meant possible time off clinic duty whilst leaving him still being able to function and watch General Hospital in his favourite comma patient’s room. The other possibility, the real hard hitting, no holes bared virus option was far less attractive, as it would attract too much attention, and though House liked to provoke reactions he hated it when he could not control others people reactions to him. Cameron’s look of concern momentarily swam into view and House grimaced in disgust. He did not do TLC, that was Wilson’s department. Scrubbing a hand over his face, and then running it through his unkempt bed hair, he sighed. It was going to be an especially long day, but he had already made his first diagnosis of the day…allergies.

Confident and determined, suddenly with one succinct, well practised move, House sat upright and swung his painful right leg off the bed so that it just grazed the floor. However, a usually well prepared House seemed to have miscalculated as he swayed dizzily, suddenly unsure of whether his bed was actually stationary or not. It passed quickly however, and House dismissed it with a derisive sniff, or rather it was one intentional sniff which were followed by about 4 un-intentional sniffs which exacerbated the already persistent tickle in his nose. Almost without warning, House sneezed loudly into his shoulder the force of which seemed to ricochet down into throbbing leg.

“HuuuucccHUMMMPP!...ugghh….crap” he uttered softly as he grasped his leg again. Sniffing experimentally to avoid another nasty surprise, House grudgingly closed his eyes briefly and added dizziness and sneezing to his mental white board. A vision appeared of Wilson standing next to the white board in his office, a pen in his hand looking over House’s symptoms on the board. Wilson turned to look at House raised an eyebrow as if to state it was a blindingly obvious diagnosis. House simply had Chase appear and shoot Wilson, completely out of the blue, and whilst Wilson lay shocked on the floor, imaginary Chase looked to House for praise. House saw himself simply hit Chase on the head with his cane. House chuckled at his own witty vision as he opened his eyes. He felt distinctly impressed with himself at his small triumph over his own internal Wilson, though it was disturbing that a vision of Wilson had now firmly established himself as House’s common sense. However, House dismissed this, he had a diagnosis. One sneeze must be allergies. Besides, House decided he was not in the mood to question his first diagnosis, and he was always proved right in the end wasn’t he? Grabbing his cane he rose slowly and moved towards the bathroom, grabbing the orange bottle as he limped away. It was time to go to work and get out of clinic duty…

***

“Come on, I’m not paying you people to eat bagels and act stupid...” House rounded on Chase who looked him straight in the eyes, knowing what was coming, “However in Chase’s case we all know its not an act…I mean he was chucked out of his 5th grade school play for being the most unconvincing rich boy man has ever seen…” Pausing to breath, House coughed lightly before turning to Cameron and Forman and saying conspiratorially “He’s got some nerve, prating about when we all know its my money that’s paying for his weekly perms”

Forman hung his head and Cameron sighed, House was in one of his moods. Chase on the other hand, in an uncharacteristic surge of self preservation or down right madness shot back;

“Well at least I don’t look like I just crawled out of a hole when I come to work”

House scoffed as he baited the trap for Chase as he had done a thousand times, “Well I’m sorry I don’t iron my boxers….sorry what do you British call them…underpants”, House made a wild expressive gesture, “ but I do have a life you know”

Chase leant forward on the table his hands clasped together, a smile playing across his face, sensing his own, unlikely victory “I’m sure many of your fellow drug addicts would disagree…”

Forman unsuccessfully stifled a chuckle. This was too much for Cameron, who disliked House’s methods sometimes but she was not prepared to sit there whilst Chase poured salt in the wounds. A distraction was in order. She stood up, waving a tan file in front of House’s face as he glared at Chase threateningly. “We do actually have a patient with an enlarged liver and spleen but normal blood work. Do you want to use your medical degree at all today?”

House snapped his head sideways looking at her incredulously, how dare she interrupt before he was about to go for the kill ? However, he had not prepared for the fact that the sudden head movement had caused a rift of pain to shoot across his sinuses, behind his eyes. To Cameron’s surprise and slight concern House’s angry look faded momentarily as he rubbed his head. The fleeting pain threw House off balance slightly and when he turned back to Chase, he found he had somehow lost the energy to lay into him. However, never one to concede defeat, House thought quickly how to salvage the situation. He opened his mouth, pretending as if he was going to shout angrily then smiled elaborately again and said, gesturing to Chase and looking at the others;

“ Ahh…see what he did there…Good try Chase but even I’m not going to beat you up so you can claim free facial surgery on the hospitals insurance policy…I mean I think we all agree that it needs improvement. If I were you, I’d ask Forman, I’m sure he’d love to pimp you up”

He turned away triumphantly, leaving a somewhat deflated Chase behind him, giving him ample opportunity to sniff quietly and open the patient’s folder. Ever since he had left his flat that morning, House’s confidence in his own marvellous self diagnosis was beginning to wane a bit. His headache had not gone away and he was beginning to feel distinctly groggy. Whilst Cameron was exchanging looks with Forman and Chase, House tried to focus on the patients admissions form, but was failing miserably as his nose warned him of a possible threat to his carefully crafted façade of being his normal jerkish self.

Deciding on a swift offence, House spun round awkwardly and swayed ever so slightly on the spot, sniffing carefully. “ Now that Chase is going to have to go back to training nappies…get a stool sample, a complete tox panel and redo the blood work for …” He scanned the file, rubbing his nose absent mindedly with a finger, “Ms Rescotra…” He roughly shoved the file back at Cameron and began to hobble of to his office, aware his nose was starting to run. Unable to suppress the urge to sneeze any longer he sneezed wetly into his fist, his back turned to others. “hihShhoo”. House was nearly at the door when he realised the noise of scrapping chairs did not accompany his retreat and he turned and stared at them, exasperated, hoping to quell the rebellion there and then.

“That was me giving you a job to go do”, he said in a mock confused voice. “I’m going to watch my soaps…I know it’s a hard concept to grasp but this is a doctors office…you are doctors…well maybe not him” House indicated Chase with his cane. Chase glared and stalked out of the room, leaving House smirking, waving his hand towards the door as he said to Cameron and Forman, “go forth…go multiply….go away” then promptly turned on his heal and then stalked into his office.

Forman shook his head amused and left whilst Cameron hesitated as she watched House pull the blinds close.

***

As House closed the blinds and shut out the image of a concerned looking Cameron he sighed, limping over to desk and flopped into the chair. That last sneeze had left him feeling depleted, and this concerned him. His allergies were annoying, persistent, the medical equivalent of Wilson, but never able to exhaust him like that. In the dim light of the office House became more aware of his headache, this slightly running nose and the strange heaviness he felt in his entire body. Grapping a tissue from inside a draw he blew his nose quickly and aimed it at the trashcan but missed. He grunted disgustedly. Laying his head back, House closed his eyes as little spots of light danced in front of them. He took stock of things. His leg was hurting, his eyes were hurting, his head was hurting and his nose was…

“heeessshhoooo…eeh..tttttiisshhooooooo!” The unexpected sneezed caught him completely off guard so much so that his head nearly touched the desk as it snapped forward. Groaning, and coughing slightly, House leant back again and closed his eyes once more. This was impossible, he refused to accept that he was getting sick and besides it didn’t make sense. Imaginary Wilson swam into view again. *Just because you don’t like the truth, that doesn’t make it a lie.*

“Shut up Wilson” House said to the empty office.

Satisfied that this retort to the imaginary image of his friend had closed the issue, House settled back in his chair. He was merely allergic to something at work that was all. Come to think of it, it was probably Chase’s perfume, House thought. The top diagnostician in the country decided to self medicate, and thought that what we needed was very simple, a nap. And where better to have a snooze than in his own office, on hospital time, whilst his ducklings were busy running around under his orders. House felt like one of the great military generals, far from the battle with disease and enjoying a relaxing morning overseeing the troops. Imaginary Wilson shook his head at this. *Your closer to the battle than you think House*. House ignored this, and sniffling settled down for a nap.

****

A little while later, the glass door of House’s dim, unlit office was pushed open. House was awakened by the soft rustling sound of Alison Cameron’s hair brushing against her white lab coat as she approached House’s desk. He did not however, open his eyes, realising the best position to be in was controlling the exact time he opened his eyes and acknowledge her. However House had forgotten that predicting behaviour was never as easy when it came to Cameron. It didn’t take her long to surprise him, as she flicked the light switch on the wall, causing House to jump involuntarily and open his eyes. Cameron smiled knowingly and House, hoping to make the best of a bad job, fixed Cameron with a truly uncomfortable glare.

Cameron sighed internally. It seemed perfectly logical now as to why she ended up being the one to bring him the news on their patient, when she and the other’s couldn’t reach him by phone. She was going to kill Chase and Forman. At the time, as she stood in the lab, she thought how silly it was for them to refuse to bring House the results. Forman had flatly refused on delivering them on the account of House’s mood, saying that today, the messenger was gonna get shot and he didn’t want the hassle thank you very much. Chase, who was bent over a microscope, didn’t even look up at the suggestion, mumbled grumpily something about the fact he did not iron his boxers, which left the task to Cameron. However, as soon as she had entered the office, it seemed like she was waking the beast in its layer rather than delivering some news to her boss. Taking a deep breath, Cameron resolved to suffer through, as she usually did and faced his glare with what she hoped was a tone of defiance.

“Now I know why you wouldn’t answer the phone…Should have known you would have been asleep”

Had he really slept that heavily to not hear the phone, House thought. That could only mean one thing, either she was lying or something else was going on. *Well d’uh* commented imaginary Wilson, and House visible frowned. This concern distracted him from the fact that he was supposed to be annoyed at Cameron, and with a jolt he realised that he had been quite fully 15 seconds and Cameron was starting to looking confused, when he came out with. “ Sleep helps me keep up my rugged charming looks…I’ve made a bet with a paraplegic in intensive care that I can be the best looking cripple in the hospital by Monday.”

The deflection worked. Cameron crossed her arms at this and rolled her eyes. She decided to ignore the comment and get on with the business at hand.

“So labs are back. Nothing unusual but Forman found low levels of Praziquantel in her blood, which isn’t unusual seeing as she probably was prescribed it to prevent Bilharzia on her recent trip to South America. She has however started to run a temperature…” Cameron paused as House was looking decidedly disinterested. “…I’m thinking infection, possibly something else she picked up on holiday…”

Cameron stopped again to look at House, who was not in fact disinterested but trying to disguise the onset of another sneeze. As Cameron looked up, House had just given up the battle in suppressing the fierce tickle which made his nostrils flare as he sneezed wetly into his fist.

“huuuu…..cccchuummmmpppp!”

“Bless you...” Cameron said, a little wrong footed as this as House merely waved a hand for her to continue “She’s also complaining of abdominal pain, but insists that’s normal, says she often suffers from digestive discomfort…”

“Abdominal pain is not normal. Get her to give you a proper history, and check whether she finished her course of Praziquantel…idiot probably didn’t realise she…” House stopped as another sharp tickle heralded another big sneeze which was bound to start arousing Cameron’s suspicions.

Sure enough…“House, are you okay?”

“Allergies” He said simply, without hesitation. Stating his diagnosis almost made it real. However, House realised the dangerous predicament he was in, Cameron looked as if she was going to start caring, in that sympathetic way that made him want to run a mile…well not run, limp very fast at least…away from her. Dimly, despite the overpowering tickle in his nose, House realised he was going to have to put on a show for Cameron if he had any hope of keeping up his as famously extravagant whining about his allergies. Time for some good old decoy tactics, don’t deny the problem just be over dramatic and people soon loose interest.

“…I’m going to…” He waved his hand in front of him by way of explanation. He sat back in his chair as his breath started to hitch perceptibly and his nose burned with the surprised tickle.

Cameron wondered at whether this dramatic display was really necessary, but then again, this was House. Cameron had long since given up trying to predict his behaviour.

“Uhh…uhhh” House waited, squinting at Cameron, his face crumpled in expectation of the sneeze but to no avail, “ uhhhh…uhhhh” another two shuddering breaths and it seemed that Cameron got impatient, or compassionate. House, through his half shut eyes decided on compassion, as she reached over his desk and with her cool, smooth hand angled his head towards the bright overhead light on the ceiling, forcing House to look straight at it. House, taken aback was about to turn to Cameron with a confused ‘why did you just touch my face in a romantic fashion’ kind of a look when the tickle dramatically intensified and House snapped his head away from Cameron and sneezed so violently he almost tumbled out of the chair.

“hhhHHUUUSSHHHHAAAAA”.

Cameron’s arm had shot out as he was beginning to fall and caught him before he plummeted to the floor. As the chair rocked back to its upright position, House painfully twisting his elevated leg. Rubbing it, House laid his head back, his eyes fluttering closed as let out a long satisfied breath. As he sat there, eyes close, he discovered that not for the first time, he felt a small confusing swell of gratitude to Cameron. In that moment he would have liked nothing better than to leap on Cameron right then and there, as a thank you for coming to his rescue, something he was not often inclined to accept. Only Wilson was ever close to being allowed to come to his rescue, then again he was not about to reward Wilson with sexual favours. Cameron was the one to reward, and House was sorely tempted, in the hazy dizziness that followed the sneeze to do something about it. However, the feeling was suppressed almost as quickly as it had surfaced, and once again, pain brought him back to reality, as his leg gave another painful twinge.

House opened his eyes just as Cameron was starting to become confused again at his behaviour. From the chair, Cameron seemed to shimmer in a surreal way, as House regrettably added acute dizziness on his mental white board which was now filling up with his rapidly expanding list of symptoms. He tried to keep a neutral self composed attitude as Cameron asked;

“Better?”

“Sublime” House answered smiling and Cameron looked confused at this. Did he mean the sneeze…or her? Cameron shut that train of thought down immediately; it was dangerous painful territory and she was learning to guard her heart against House’s manipulative allusions to her somewhat confused feelings about him.

“I know the feeling…” she replied returning his smile which this time got a raised eyebrow from House. Was Cameron flirting with him? His headache was getting worse and he wanted desperately to pop some vicodin and get back to his nap. Sadly Cameron was messing up this brilliant plan. Rubbing his nose with the side of his hand, which was starting to run, he waited. Cameron, noticing House watching her, held out the file and continued in an half amused voice,

“So like I was saying…already did a complete history, father suffered from IBS, so I don’t think its anything to worry about.”

Blowing his nose unnecessarily loudly on a tissue he had accosted, House grabbed the file and commented “ Then you’re an idiot…do an ultra sound, and get Forman to do a colonoscopy, better yet, get Chase to do it…” He smiled maliciously “Let’s see what the servants are whispering about in the back passage”.

Cameron rolled her eyes for what must be the 4th time today at House’s crudeness and turned to leave. House visibly relaxed a bit. He was anxious now to get her out of the way as his nose was tickling again and any more sneezing and Cameron would defiantly go running to the one man who would ruin all his carefully laid dramatic performances; Wilson. However, to House’s annoyance, Cameron turned and said in that dangerously worried voice;

“By the way, you’re a little hot…”

*Crap*…thought House, as much as Cameron’s assistance earlier on had seemed like a bonus, now he realised letting her anywhere near him was seriously endangering his self resolve to ignore his symptoms. His nose however refused to be ignored and he had to sniffle a little too loudly for his liking, whilst he subtle tucked a tissue into his hand ready to deploy it once Cameron had left.

“So is your ass…what’s your point?”. *Good save* said the imaginary Wilson inside House’s head, and this time House smugly agreed with him. Cameron merely glared at him in a half amused way and turned on her heal as House shouted after her “Oh and make sure Chase to get his hands dirty up Mrs Rescotra’s…”

The door slammed shut and House left it hanging as he pressed the tissue to his nose. He waited and waited, poised with the tissue clamped to his nose

“hhuhh……huhuh….hhhIII” His breath hitched them died suddenly. Thoroughly annoyed, House sniffed experimentally and deciding the coast was clear, he rose to his feet in order to move over to his recliner so he could prop his leg up. But, no sooner had he risen to his feet, out of the blue, the exhausting sneezes came back with a vengeance, as he managed to raise the tissue to his nose just in time…

“HehCHHHH! EhSHHHSH! Ha…ha…HuhCHSHHHH!”.

Groaning, he had to clutch the table to stop him self from collapsing back into the chair. House rubbed his head with one hand and he leaned with his other on the desk. Once more, disgusted with himself, he threw the very wet tissue at the trashcan and missed again. His leg reminded him he was still standing awkwardly and he rummaged for the vicodin in his pocket and popped another. He limped painfully over to his recliner and flopped down, carefully positioning his leg on the foot rest and laying his cane across his chest. He was dammed if he was going to be shown up by his allergies, and he shivered slightly as he got comfortable. *Cold?* Wilson’s voice seemed to ask.

“Shut up Wilson” said House once more to the empty office. Yawning broadly slightly and slowly massaging his leg, he settled back for the remainder of his nap.

***

“How did it go?” questioned Chase as Cameron sat down in the doctor’s common room. Forman and Chase were surrounded by their patient’s files. Forman had suggested they make camp there to avoid House’s mood swings.

“Went about as well as having teeth pulled” Cameron grimaced “…I found him asleep…which was weird”

“House is a jerk…of course he is getting some shut eye whilst we have no idea what’s wrong with this girl” Forman said, only too keen to demonstrate that at least he was here trying to help.

Cameron had to concede this. House was jerk.

“It was weird though…he seems distracted…plus I think his allergies are bothering him.” The more Cameron thought about it, the more his behaviour was weird.

“Great…just great…another thing he can torture us with” Chase said miserably. Then he brightened up suddenly “Think we can drug him?”

“With what? He’s already popped about 5 vicodin today and its only 11.30” mused Forman.

“He’s in pain” Cameron interjected a little defensively.

“Doesn’t stop him being a manipulative bastard though does it?” Forman countered, roughly opening another file.

“Who’s a manipulative bastard?” asks Wilson conversationally, who had just come through the door and headed for the fridge.

“House” moaned all three of the ducklings at once. Wilson chuckled and came over to the table where Forman and Chase sat surrounded by files. Wilson knew all to well how House liked to vent at them. Wilson had often suspected that the only reason why House put up with his team, Cuddy and even Wilson, his one faithful friend, was that it was a convenient way to mouth off with very little consequences. Mind you, this didn’t mean any of them were happy being lumped with it. Look at poor Chase; he was practically House’s punching bag. Wilson was the only one actually chose to spend time with him, a choice which even confused Wilson at times.

“Why are you working in here?” asked Wilson, but he held both hands immediately after he had said it, knowing the answer before one was given. “Let me guess…House?” Cameron and Forman nodded whilst Chase looked miserable.

“What is it this time? Vicodin went down the wrong way?”

Cameron smiled “Don’t know…he’s just acting weird”

“Define ‘weird’?” said Wilson as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Unfortunately, Wilson’s curiosity was never satisfied as all three of their beepers went off at once and the ducklings rushed out of the room in single file. Wilson, left alone thought how it was indeed ‘weird’ that he hadn’t seen House all day. Usually by early morning he would have burst in during any of Wilson’s breast exams to ask Wilson to get him a coffee, which was his famous pastime at the moment. This was doubly annoying as Wilson had to deal with not only a smug House but also a very distraught patient who had not expecting someone who looked like a biker boy to rush into the room whilst she was being checked for breast cancer. But House hadn’t done it in nearly two days, not that Wilson was complaining, but something as Sherlock Holmes would say ‘was afoot’, and Wilson was determined to find out.

***

The office was still dimly lit despite the sunshine poking through the blinds.

House, after his rather unsuccessful nap had to begun to pace his office. He was restless, something he did not usually suffer from. Besides it was keeping him warm. Cuddy was obviously thinking that turning the air conditioning into polar artic mode made every one work harder, House thought irrationally, as a shiver ran down his spine. Annoyingly, during House’s nap, Wilson…the imaginary one…had written “fever” in bold letters on House’s mental diagnostic white board. Chase had turned up again and this time offered House a variety of cane’s House could beat Wilson with. House had chosen the one with an extra knobbly ending. Wilson now sported a black eye and decent sized bump on the head and was keeping quiet for the moment.

“Heeeh…hhee…” The pacing stopped. “ hhee…hheee...” House stood there frozen, nostrils flaring waiting, his back to the door. He didn’t hear it open. “hhiI…HIII..” the tickle was so overpowering, House made little attempt to keep the desperation out of his voice. “HuuuuuuHHHHH” With one shuddering breath he buried his head in his shoulder, whilst bending over slightly, leaning heavily on the cane.

“HuUUUUTTCCCHUMMPP!!”

The sneeze resounded loudly in the quiet office. Sniffling wetly, House was about to straighten up, but was knocked back by more forceful exhausting sneezes, House could only stand there and sneeze openly into the air.

“hhuuuhhhHHH.,..hheeeCCHEEWW! hurrrSSHOOOOO! Haa..haaa…”

Starting to feel dizzy and off balance House made a wild grab for the table for support with his free hand, whilst his other hand clutched the cane so tightly his knuckles were going white. It was only then, whilst clutching at thin air, House heard the distinct sound of someone behind him let out a confused sigh. *Crap* Thought House for the third time today. Wilson, the real life one, had managed to sneak up on him and catch him unawares.

However, before House even had time to contemplate how to deal with man who prevented him on a daily basis from enjoying being perpetually miserable, unsociable and alone, the sneeze came back with vengeance. With his back still turned to the door and now the curious Wilson. His eyes fluttering closed, and House could only wait for the burning, itching sensation to come to its inevitable conclusion.

“hhaaaA…hhhHHHAAASSHOOOOOOO”

He sneezed so forcefully that its jarred his throat and he was struck by the fact that his feet no longer had a secure purchase on the floor. House, despite the dizziness and prickling pain in his head, was aware he was slowly about to fall to the floor for the second time today. However, embarrassingly, also for the second time that day House was rescued in the nick of time. The hand of a certain sneaky oncologist had grabbed his elbow and steadied him. Wilson’s gripped his arm tightly but House was unaware of it as, once again, his leg protested at this rough treatment. House caught himself wondering what was worse, the sneezing or the fact that Wilson found him doing it.

“Christ…” Wilson chuckled as released his grip only after he was sure House was not going to try and dive into the carpet again any time soon.

“Here was me thinking you were only this dramatic when you had an audience…apparently not!”

House could hear the humour and curiosity in Wilson’s voice. A curious Wilson was a dangerous Wilson. Pretty soon Wilson would be caring and lecturing all over the place.

He knuckled his running nose and turned, making sure he had his best condescending look planted firmly on his face.

“Well I did have an audience didn’t I”. Still reeling a bit from the sneeze House sat down heavily in the chair and busied himself with his desk, hoping not to spend too long locked in eye contact with Wilson in case he gave away the fact he was defiantly coming down with something.

“You would make a lousy spy…I could hear caring…” Seeing Wilson roll his eyes, he added, just for good measure “Anyone thanked you today for telling them they were dying?”

Wilson laughed, but merely pulled an orange prescription bottle. “Antihistamine…” he indicated. Typical Wilson, House thought, offer support without being asked for it.

“I can read” House shot back as he eyed the bottle warily. These were not going to do much good if the 4 antihistamine he had stolen from the pharmacy earlier on hadn’t helped. House rubbed his head in a puzzled way, wincing at the painful way his sinuses ached. House was starting to loose the battle with himself.

“Funny that…though that’s why my lunch always gets eaten”

“Well at least my handwriting doesn’t look like chicken scratches…” House said proudly. Sitting back in his chair he continued;

“Today I ate a Wames Jilsons lunch…not Mr nosy oncologist’s lunch…hhhhuuUUUchhhUMPP! HhheeeEEESHHUMPP!....CCHCHUMPP!”

“Bless…” Wilson said softly. “You were insulting me I think…” he commented, as if he was aware of how disorientated House felt at that moment. House shivered perceptibly, however, he manage to recover enough to glare at him.

“Well du’h! I was just going to say that today I ate a Wames Jilsons lunch…not Mr nosy oncologist’s lunch”

Oddly enough House had barely thought about lunch. It was around 2 pm and he hadn’t made a quick raid of the staff fridge to steal Wilson’s delicious home made sandwiches that he made with such care. House always loved to see how many sandwiches is would take before Wilson challenged him to a death match. However, today the thought of food was somehow not appealing. Whilst House was musing, Wilson smile grew and House, noticing, felt nervous all of a sudden.

“Ah but you see…I know for a fact you haven’t had lunch…which means you just lied!” Wilson said triumphantly.

*Crap* House thought. Imaginary Wilson did a little gig at how clever his real life counter part was. House should have realised that him not stealing Wilson’s lunch was an even bigger give away than the symptoms, seeing as House never usually deviated from his routine. He wondered why he had missed his very obvious fact. *That would be the effects of the cold* Imaginary Wilson said smugly and promptly got beat into submission again.

“No I didn’t lie…I have had someone’s lunch, just not your lunch. I had a little nibble on Cuddy earlier, I’m full” House rubbed his stomach comically.

Even though Wilson laughed, House still felt scrutinised. “Heard about my patient?”

The change of subject was not quite as relaxed as House would have wanted and Wilson raised an eyebrow. Wilson watched him carefully, had House just tried to change the subject? Cameron was right, something weird was going on. House got up, unable to suppress a couple of small coughs as he fetched the file from the recliner and handed it to Wilson. He took the opportunity to grab some more tissues and blow his nose quietly.

“Is this the cute patient you got Chase to do a colonoscopy on?”

House made a face. “Eeeww…Chase said her colon was cute, that’s just sick man”

Wilson laughed. “So what’s wrong with her?”

House was about to answer when Forman strode through the doors, wearing surgical scrubs and looking anxious. Both Wilson and House looked up.

“House, she’s having a heart attack, we’ve found a massive clot. We’re prepping her for surgery”

He left without another word. House sighed and looked at Wilson.

“I have no idea”.

***

After Forman had left for the OR, Wilson had gotten up to follow whilst House had sank back into the chair, rubbing his head frustrated. He was frustrated partly because of the fact he hadn’t come up with some genius theory yet and partly because he’s head left like Chase, in high heals, had just finished a very spunky rendition of Footloose. He’s throat was starting to hurt, and he only managed to suppress a large tickle that was forming in the back of his nose but pinching his nose covertly as he pretended to check his shoe laces. However, the tickle refused to silenced. House swivelled his chair to face away from Wilson, as the tickle was building. He pretended he was looking for a file in the shelves behind his desk. His nose was filling with suppressed tickles, and his eyes were watering with the effort of trying not to sneeze again in front of Wilson. If he wasn’t careful, Wilson would start to caring, looking concerned and offering his help. House wasn’t sure he had the strength for that. Without warning, the tickle in House’s nose grew so quickly House only just manage to pinch his nose in time to stifle it.

“Keh-cheshhummpp!” The sneeze was barely audible, and House was revealed he had managed to keep it in, but the violent jerk it had produced has aroused Wilson’s attention.

“What was that?”

House, snuffling quietly and checking the coast was clear in his nose, swivelled his hair back round producing a vicodin pressed between his thumb and forefinger, looking at it almost lovingly.

“I think I just found Chase’s self confidence…” He said smirking. With a flourish he threw it in the air and swallowed it. He shook his head in mock sorrow.

“Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.” Wilson laughed at this.

“Now that you’ve made your obligatory crack about Chase…You coming?” Wilson asked. Everything seemed alright, thought Wilson, but why was House continuing to stall? Wilson was sure there was something going on, but like everything with House, finding the answer was going tricky.

“Whoa there moaning Minnie, some of us are cripples you know!” House said dramatically. Was it Wilson’s imagination or did House sounds a little hoarse. “I need to find my happy pills.”

*That’s a Lie* Imaginary Wilson piped up. *There in your pocket. Your trying not to sneeze aren’t you*. House groaned internally. It had to be a bad sign that he was starting to agree with his own conscience, and it made it even worse that his conscience was Wilson! House continued to rummage in his shelves, making a lot of unnecessary noise, hoping Wilson would get fed up and leave.

However, House had forgotten that Wilson had developed the patience of an insufferable martyr. Wilson waited, shifting his feet, until finally after about 5 minutes he said exasperatedly;

“Are you done yet…you never know, you might learn something…something important, like what’s wrong with your patient”.

House could see Wilson was getting impatient, and when in an impatient mood Wilson was likely to become curious and ask probing questions. House has to do something to lighten the mood, and divert Wilson’s mothering nature, but unfortunately his runny nose could give the game away at any moment. Knuckling his nose, House said abruptly;

“Did Cuddy make a pass at you?”

“What!!...No…Why would you ask that?”

“Dunno, thought it might have been you two in the janitors closet earlier on…no doubt you were showing her you still knew how to have fun…’ House waggled his eye brows comically, “showing her there was still some life in a nagging old hag like you!”

Wilson rubbed his head in a confused way but smiled none the less. * Nothing like Cuddy’s rack to prevent a massive caring disaster!* thought House smugly. However he couldn’t celebrate just yet, he may have won the battle, but now he needed as escape plan.

“As much as I would love to be made uncomfortable by your crude insinuations…we have a surgery to catch” Said Wilson who was smiling in a half exasperated, good natured way. He turned and left the office. Expecting House to follow, he had held the door open behind him, but realised pretty quickly there was not squeaky sneaker sounding limp behind him. He had turned back and House was gone.

Instead, there was a note stuck on the door. Wilson ripped it off the door and sighed. It read; Sucker…didn’t think I was going to actually go see a patient did you. I’m off to get more drugs. Greg. Wilson shoved the note in his pocket and looked back into House’s now empty office. He marvelled how a man with pronounced limp and squeaky shoes could get away from him. In reality, House had hopped over the wall separating his balcony from Wilson’s, got into Wilson’s office by forcing the door and was sitting on his friends sofa.

The note had bought him time. However, as he coughed thickly into his fist and registered the fact that he was clammy, House knew it was only a matter of time before Wilson would start to gain the upper hand. The mental diagnostic white board re-appeared, clearer and more prominent that every before. Coughing, Congestion, Sore Throat, Aches, Headache, Sneezing. He had all of them. Slowly, grudgingly, House felt his glands in his neck, finding them slightly swollen, and whilst he knew it was pointless, felt his forehead, finding it unnaturally warm. This time imaginary Wilson looked sympathetic which made House even more annoyed. He looked desolately around the room as he sank back into the chair. His nose decided it was time to torture him some more, and House did nothing to stop it.

“Heeeccchhhhheeeeew! huuuuchhhhhhhooo….hhhh…hhhhheeeassshhhooooOO!”

Whilst the wet sneezes rudely disturbed the stillness of the Wilson’s office silence, finally, House realised there was not point ignoring the fact that he was ill.

Imaginary Wilson smiled. *The great master of infectious disease is flawed by a cold*.

House simply rubbed his aching head defeated, knowing it was futile to argue with himself or imaginary Wilson anymore. House caught himself thinking how ironic it was that he had to be in Wilson’s office to finally accept this blatantly obvious fact, his conscience, which apparently was Wilson, had finally got him to see sense.

*Wilson’s going to have a field day when he finds out* thought House miserably as he hauled himself to his feet and limped towards the door.

*What makes you think I don’t already know? * said Wilson’s smugly from somewhere inside House’s foggy brain.

*****

TBC...watch this space for more...hope you like. :blushing:

Link to comment
YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I remember this one! I can't wait to read the finale!!!

You write House's attitude so well.

Please post the rest soon!

:-)

Me too!!! So glad you decided to finish it! Like the changes so far. Can't WAIT for the rest...

silentdreamer789

Link to comment

I am so thankful that everyone seems to like it....its great fun to write...particulairy the next bit, maybe its because of the shower part.... :D Okay so here we go again, straight in the deep end...

******

It was official. House felt awful. Everything was thick, heavy and foggy. That might have something to do with the fact that he was, at present taking refuge in the staff showers. After leaving Wilson’s office, House had even contemplated going to join his team to discuss things over the surgery, but the hacking cough he had developed half way down the corridor had put him off that idea. He limped slowly back to his office, but couldn’t seem to get comfortable and found it impossible to keep warm. So, being a genius he had come up with the idea of a nice long hot shower to help him struggle through until he could go home.

So there he was, leaning against the wall of the shower, rubbing his leg slowly in a circular motion. He’d been standing there for nearly 20 minutes now. The pounding of the water seemed almost deafening. House could barely hear the sounds of his own coughing as he let the water run over his head in a torrent, his eyes closed tightly, trying to stay warm. He shivered violently; despite the fact the water was almost hot enough to scold him. House cleared his throat, and noticed the heavy congested sound he was met with.

Ruefully, he closed his eyes, aware of the sensation of running water flowing over him. House contemplated how he was going to handle this. House knew Wilson was concerned and it annoyed him. It annoyed him that anyone suspected anything. At the same time, it was inevitable now that at some point, House was going to have to let someone close enough to either confess he was sick, or even worse, accept someone’s help with the fact the cold was rapidly getting the better of him. He was getting sicker, he couldn’t deny this, and he knew that soon enough, the congestion in his nose and chest, the weakness he felt in his entire body, and the pain of his leg and head he would knock him out for good and he would need help. And this help could only come in one form that House would accept; James Wilson.

In the darkness behind his own eyes, he was faced with an odd image. There were now two mental white boards, his own board and that of Ms Rescotra’s his patients. Despite feeling awful, he felt a sudden compulsion to solve her board, the puzzle of her illness. He was sick, he knew that, but he has still very few ideas about his patients and he felt angry that his cold was preventing his brain from working properly. Coughing harshly a couple more times to try to clear the congested feeling in his chest, House sank a little longer with his back against the wall of the shower, trying to think, to diagnose. House watched as the steam curled around his body and licked at his skin, making him shiver again. As each shiver over took him, he tried to breath deeply to calm his shaking body.

However, slowly the cooling steam was creeping into his nose, which was becoming slightly red around the nostrils. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t concentrate, and the pain in his leg was rapidly becoming another problem that required his attention.

The problem was that that House had already taken enough meds to fell a horse the vicodin was having to divide its talents between his leg and the head cold. House had one fist pushed to his throbbing sinuses and the other banging against the wall repeatedly, as he tried to turn his mind to his patient who was right now in surgery. Her symptoms didn’t make any sense to him. When ever he tried to connect her symptoms in his head, all that appeared was the white boards, his symptoms, the concerned friend, the suck up employee and a vague foggishness which House was surrounded by. However, House was not allowed to ruminate long, as he was seized by a series of powerful wet sneezes;

“Hmmphhshh! Errr…Hmmphhshh!”

The first couple House managed to stifle into his fist to try and curb there strength as the force of them pushed his leg painfully into the wall of the shower. However, he could not control the onslaught that followed.

“hhcheshhh, heh-ehhhhshhh, ihh-chishhoo, ehhchishh, hehuhsheshh, hah-ahhhtchh, heh-ehh-ehhcheshhuhh."

The spray from his sneezes mixed with the steam of the hot water as House was totally helpless to control the rush of sneezes that followed the intense burning tickling in his nose. House knew this fit was going to be a long one, but as he brace himself for another round, his leg seemed to scream at him, whilst imaginary Wilson reminded House gently that he wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for much longer.

“Eehtchh! ... kehhtchh!...Hehchhhuh! ... iichhhuh! Eeeshhhuh!” As the tickle continued its mammoth onslaught, each sneeze was draining House of his energy, as the steam was only serving to aggravate his already irritated nose.

“ hhhhhhHHHHH……HHHUUH….hhhhHHHEASSSHHOOOOOOO!”

This finally sneeze was so powerful that House was thrown forwards and only prevented himself from falling by putting his hand out to brace himself against the opposite wall. Unfortunately, the sneeze did have enough force to constitute a slight collision between House’s head and the metal shower head. After the wave of dizziness had passed, House leant back again and coughed exhaustedly. He rubbed his head, and it was only then that he noticed bloody mingling with the water as it disappeared down the drain. He had cut himself just above his eyebrow and he washed it tentatively as he continued to cough and sniffle, feeling a well of self pity rise in him as he miserably contemplated what he was going to do.

Moments later, a dripping wet, shivering House left the shower and stood, barefoot against on the cool tile floor. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror at the end of the room and sighed disgustedly. He looked like crap, he felt like crap and the worst thing of all was, there was no point denying now that he needed Wilson. House could see the droplets of water that hung suspended on the end of his nose, fall to the ground, the movement motivating one more harsh tickle to raise its head.

"HehHH-yishoO!"

Suddenly, anger coursed through him. He limped angrily over to the bench, vigorously dried himself and leant on his hand and his flexed his palm against the wall. He would not let an insignificant, diagnostically boring virus prevent him from doing his job. He was not going to go running to Wilson, let him work it out for himself. He was House, people were always telling him how difficult he was, and so he wasn’t going to give an inch.

*Strong words for a man who can barely go 3 minutes without falling over* commented imaginary Wilson.

Needless to say, Chase played murdered for the third time this day. Imaginary Wilson ran screaming like a girl from a gleeful Chase brandishing the cattle prod and giggling. House sighed in a satisfied way. All he had to do was last a couple more hours, then he could go home, take the phone of the hook, and wallow in his own misery for a while. However, first he had to cure the patient, which meant running the gauntlet once more of the ducklings and Wilson.

***

A slightly dishevelled looking House quietly limped into his ducklings office to find them all gathered round the board. Not one of them turned round. Forman was still in his surgical scrubs, Chase was absently twirling a pen between his figures and Cameron stood with her arms crossed, and even without being able to see she face, House could tell she was looking concerned and troubled. If House was going to get through this, he would have to avoid Cameron, beat Chase down, and ignore Forman, seeing as he wouldn’t care anyway. House crept up behind his hard working ducklings, and was about to scream dramatically, but as usual today, House’s nose had other ideas. House barely had time to stifle it to avoid sneezing all over Forman.

“Heee-kNXXX-choo!"

If House hadn’t been so annoyed with himself, he would have laughed as Chase jumped about a foot in the air and fell over House’s cane which was stuck out at an odd angle. Forman chuckled as he saw Chase go down and Cameron bent down to help him.

“Do you have to do that?” asked Chase who was rubbing his back.

“Do you have to be an idiot?” House said simply, raising his cut eyebrow a little, urging Chase to challenge him. Chase looked as if he was about retort but shut his mouth soon after, thinking better of it. House looked menacing enough all dishevelled like that, and Chase found it curious that there was a kind of glassy quality to his eyes and his face was flushed.

House turned away from Chase, sniffled wetly and rubbed his head absent mindedly. He suddenly realised how drained he felt and he sat heavily on the chair and rested his chin on his cane. House sat there, rubbing his head on the top of his cane. The monster tickle which had besieged him in the dark, steamy wilds of the staff bathroom had come back to haunt him. Whilst his team went over to the table to look thorough the files again, House narrowly managed to avert another sneezing fit by pinching his nose hard with one hand whilst he pretended to open a file on the other desk. Even though he had popped some of Wilson’s antihistamine and congestion pills in the hope of controlling the sneezing, he was loosing the battle.

“How’s our patient?” He said gruffly, and out of the corner of his eye realised Cameron was staring at him, studying his face with a frown on her face. House decided to ignore her.

“We managed to remove the clot and we put her on blood thinners. Turns out the clot was in the artery near the heart…problem is we don’t know what caused the clot…” Forman sighed. House rubbed his head again and looked down at the file, but within seconds his head has snapped up again. Cameron’s hand was on his shoulder;

“Your bleeding” she said simply and softly, reached up to examine his bleeding cut above his eyebrow, which was now accompanied by a substantial bruise. House, mentally kicking himself for forgetting his fight with the shower head, shook her off roughly and said sharply;

“Its fine, don’t fuss” Cameron look affronted and slightly hurt as she stepped back to a reasonable distance and offered House a file, turning away from him as she spoke in an almost level voice;

“The clots not the only problem. Five minutes ago she complains of stomach pain…”

“…Turns out she has massive internal bleeding and we have no idea why!” finished Chase dejectedly.

Cameron moved towards the board to add internal bleeding to the list of symptoms. Chase and Forman followed her example and focused on going over her symptoms.

“It could be the result of trauma from the surgery”

“Possibly…” Chase looked at Forman and crossed his arms “You did the surgery… you screw anything up?” Forman scowled.

“I think its probably auto-immune…” suggested Cameron, trying to avoid yet more back stabbing, “Body starts attacking the stomach lining, acid burns a hole it and she starts bleeding out…”

Meanwhile House was completely oblivious to this. He could barely focus on what Cameron was saying. He was sitting in one of the chairs, the tickle was getting so strong he couldn’t ignore it and he suddenly turned away from them all, managing to stifle 3 wet sneezes, making all three of the ducklings jump.

“Heee-kNXXX-choo!...hha….HHeeaaAA-KSSNNXX-cshoo!...Knnxx-shooOO!"

The sound rang out louder than House had expected. He looked up, slightly dazed and realised that for the third time that day he was precariously balanced on the edge of the chair and Cameron’s hand had reached out to steady him again. Annoyed that he was unable to keep his now worsening cold in check, House brushed Cameron’s hand away angrily once again and managed to straightened up, ignoring the looks he got from his team.

“None of them fit…it just doesn’t add up…” He rubbed his head distractedly. His head was killing him and his was sure the fever had something to do with his lack of concentration “….It has to be *cough* environmental”

“It could be a parasite…” Chase piped up again, as if hadn’t hear House “What about a tick bite…limes disease…the poison would explain her history of stomach pain and she has lost weight whilst she has been here, poison is more potent in her blood and has finally caused a GI bleed.”

“If she had a parasite the poison would have shown up on her tox screen. No poisons present” Forman pointed out.

“I think it’s environmental…” House said again, squinting in pain but managing to look at his team despite the fact they had their back turned to him.

“It could be an allergic reaction to the pain meds we put her on for the stomach pain in the first place…an acute reaction can cause bleeding…we should try her on steroids to counteract the effects” said Forman thoughtfully. “Or it could be neurological…she could have micro seizures which have caused a weakening of the stomach lining…”

House rolled his eyes at this. All he wanted was to be allowed to suffer in peace, but with the pressing need to cure the patient, he was growing more frustrated with these irrelevant ideas. After clearing his throat discreetly and blowing his nose, he struggled to his feet, limped over to his team. Leaning on the shelf for support he rapped the white board with his cane so sharply that all the ducklings jumped. They all looked at him

“Nice to see I’m not fictional…” He said sarcastically, though his voice sounded congested. “Although all of those ideas are…utter crap…I do have a better one.” House saw the eyes of his team widen expectantly. Even he managed a small smile at this. He loved luring them in, only to bring it all crashing down on them. “I think it’s environmental” He said triumphantly and their faces sank.

“House, she’s bleeding into her abdomen, if it was environmental we would have seen some improvement by now… massive internal bleeding is not improvement.” said Cameron, now sounding exasperated.

House opened his mouth as if to retort but then shut it again. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her. He hung his head lost in thought. This cold was getting in the way of his ability to do his job and with a pang of guilt he realised that he was probably doing more harm than good to his patient. After a few minutes, even though he knew he it was a bad diagnosis, he was about to suggest that Cameron was probably right about infection and to give the patient broad spectrum antibiotics when the glass door clicked and House looked up to find Wilson walking through the door.

“Come to join the love in?” ask House ruefully, although for some reason he couldn’t explain he was curiously relieved to see Wilson.

Imaginary Wilson re-immerged in House consciousness and chuckled *That’s because you know you need my help*.

“Cuddy said your patients bleeding out…sounded like a party” Wilson offered as a way of explanation for his presence. House didn’t say anything and smiled ever so slightly. Wilson raised and eye brow and looked at House as he padded over to a chair and sat down. *He looks like crap* Thought Wilson, and the painful looking cut above House’s eyebrow didn’t escape Wilson’s notice either. He examined House from a distance as the other rested his head on his cane. Wilson noticed the slight redness around House’s nose and the small, yet discernable croaky edge to his voice. If Wilson didn’t know better, he would say House was coming down with something, but he knew Houses allergies could be a bitch, but then again he had never looked this dishevelled.

“So what’s the diagnosis?” Wilson asked curiously and House sighed. For some reason he didn’t want to tell Wilson he had no idea. It was easier to diagnose himself than this patient and that annoyed the crap out of him. In the end House gestured around the room at the ducklings.

“Cameron’s thinking infection…, Forman is thinking neurological, very unoriginal for a neurologist” House stopped and sniffled wetly, causing another pain to seared across his head. He rubbed his forehead firmly. Again, Wilson spotted this. *Headache?* he thought. “Chase is probably thinking but its hard to tell…and I think it environmental!”

Wilson heard House’s ducklings sigh. House threw up his hands dramatically.

“It would be more useful talking to a bunch of drugged up monkeys!” He said impressively, which made Cameron role her eyes. However, as Wilson was about to chuckle, he saw House’s face contort slightly and realised that he was trying to suppress a yawn. *He’s yawning!* House never yawned unless he was being dramatic, and yet Wilson was sure this was a real one. No one else had yawned, and yet seconds after the first yawn Wilson was positive he was trying to suppress another. Wilson finally had confirmation something was going on. House never yawned. He was wired constantly, he was on uppers all the time, the amount of vicodin was enough to make anyone delirious happy…well perhaps not House, Wilson thought contritely.

Unfortunately for Wilson, House had looked up to see Wilson staring at him, with that dangerous perceptive look he got when he was about to open his mouth and expose House’s inner feelings. House frowned and sniffled in a frustrated kind of way. When was Wilson going to realise he didn’t have any inner feelings.

“Are you admiring the way I have done my hair today jimmy” House said, making Wilson realise he was staring, whilst attempting to sound spunky and cocky, but unfortunately it came out a more a kind of congested sneer. House knew Wilson was beginning to work things out, and despite House’s effort to the fact that he was feeling lethargic and feverish; Wilson was not stupid and knew him better than anyone.

“You yawned…twice” Wilson said quizzically.

“Yeah…two times….two…same as the number of prostitutes I had last night. I was going to call you but…you know...” Again though House almost made it sound like his normal witty remark it came out a bit half hearted. He sighed inwardly. He was not sure how long he could keep this up. And unfortunately, a very deep tickle had just made it self known to his nose…it was not good news.

“Thought you had been through all the prostitutes in your area…you get a 2 for one?” Wilson shot back, and yet was conscious that House didn’t seem quite up to his usual banter.

Whilst all this was going on, Cameron was having a moral dilemma about the patient

“Hate to break up the boy talk but do you mind if we get back to the patient?”

“If you must….” House said rubbing his now, running nose.

“So…infections…” Cameron began but almost immediately House got distracted…by the tickle. It was slow and annoying at first, House tried to quieten it with some carefully placed sniffles.

“We could start her on broad spectrum….”

Cameron’s voice was droning on, but House had hung his head trying to hide the fact that his nostrils were now flaring. His breath was starting to hitch.

“hhuhhh……hhhhhhh….”

“House?” Cameron’s voice cut through the sound of his own congested breathing. *Crap…again* He had been spotted. Time to put on a show again. In response, House threw his head back and continued to struggle with the torturous tickle which was building faster and quicker than he had expected. The others had turned to watch.

“D…don’t min…HHUUHHH….mind be…..hhhhhHHHUUHHH”

Chase just shook his head and turned away. Just another one of House’s childish displays. Not like they hadn’t seen it before. Wilson on the other hand was still curious.

“hhhhHHIII……HHHHHIIIII” By this time House’s eyes were starting to water and though he would never admit it, it was actually getting kind of painful to keep trying to prolong the sneeze in the name of drama. He just wanted to sneeze and be done with it. He was starting to feel slightly desperate.

Little did he know Forman had other ideas. Without a word Forman strode over to House, whipped out his flash light and shone it into House’s eyes. Startled House stared at Forman incredulously.

“What….the..HHHUUHH….hel…..hhhEEASSSHHHOOOOOO! EEESSSHHHOOOOOOOO!” House sneezed so forcefully his head snapped forward and he sneezed straight onto Forman’s shinny black shoes.

“Would you stop acting like a child…” Forman said exasperatedly as he turned to go back to his seat at the table, but stopped and said, as an afterthought, “And your paying to have these cleaned” Forman stalked back to his seat. Cameron and Chase turned back to the board.

“Well not that’s over with…” Cameron’s frowned and valiantly tried again, “…back to our patient with bleeding issues…”

Wilson frowned and had to suppress the urge to snap at Forman for this little display. He really could be a jerk sometimes. It was only then that Wilson realised he was feeling sorry for House, and this feeling took him by surprise. As House recovered himself, his self satisfied smile did not reach quite reach his eyes and Wilson could almost see the tension in his body. On the spur of a moment, Wilson turned and went to the coffee machine across from the room. He returned almost immediately with a hot steaming cup of herbal tea with honey. He discreetly pressed it in to House’s hands and then without a word went and sat in the chair at the far end of the room. If Wilson had learnt anything being House’s friend for year it was that if you wanted to help him, you had to do it without a fuss, and wait for him to make the first move. Problem was you could end up waiting a while.

House looked at the cup then up at Wilson, who seemed to be ignoring him. He couldn’t help but smile slightly. *Good old Wilson*, you could always rely on his caring instinct to kick in and though House was annoyed he was the recipient, he did feel slightly grateful. The curling steam which was wafting up from the cup was helping him breath better and as he sipped it curiously, the honey help to soothe his throat.

Meanwhile, Cameron and Forman had been focusing on doing something useful and House realised he had let the situation get way from him. It was time for some kick ass House genius.

“I hate to break up the inspired medical…stuff…but I think it environmental!!”

“Prove it” Challenged Forman.

Unfortunately, House had no answer to this. Environmental fitted the best, it had to be something they had done to her, it made no sense other wise, but seeing as he hadn’t been near the patient or even seen her for that matter, he was hard pressed to say anything. Instead he coughed a couple of times and felt a bit deflated. He needed to get out of here or pretty soon all his street-cred as a hard ass was going to evaporate. In the end, it was Chase who broke the silence, who had been staring at the cup clutched, in House’s hands;

“She drinks tea…she could have taken something”

“Unless you have suddenly grown a pair..” House threatened, coughing harshly which of course was not missed by Wilson in the far corner of the room, “Or demanding to be fired, that comment better have some relevance other than your desire to have a tea party…”

Suddenly House stopped and frowned, but this time not from the headache. He felt a slight tingle run through him, and it wasn’t from the fever. The tea! He looked down at cup Wilson had given him. That was it…

“Oh God…” House said in a croaky voice. He meant it to, he couldn’t believe he was going to say this, how was he supposed to voice the fact that Chase was right. The others were looking at him for an explanation. House shook his head slightly and begrudgingly said;

“Wombat here just hit a home run”

“I did!” Chase looked like he was about to fall off his chair in surprise.

“Well…” House stood up and limped over to the board, crossing off each symptom, rubbing his once again tickly nose, “ Technically I’m the genius here…but…Wombat here worked out how are ever so truthful patient lied in her history…”

Everyone was looking confused, whereas Wilson was smiling. House looked around and rolled his eyes, despite his growing need to sneeze, he had to rub this one in. He had finally solved the case and no cold was going to stop him enjoying it.

“Its about as obvious as Chase’s peroxide blonde hair…Ginseng in her tea! Probably took it for fatigue and the stomach pain. However, the *sniff* ginseng increases blood pressure and bleeding, especially in people already given certain anti-clotting medications such as….”

House left it hanging, this time unable to suppress a smile.

“Warfarin” Wilson offered after the ducklings remained mute.

“And we gave her Warfarin for the blood clot, and the ginseng made her bleed out” sighed Cameron, nodding.

House grimaced. “Bit of vitamin K and she’ll right as rain, ready to lie to more medical professionals in no time”. He felt the simultaneous release of finding the right diagnosis and the sneeze which refused to be silenced. In preparation he hooked his cane on to the top of the white board.

“HhhHaaaa-KsSNNXXX-shoooooOO!”

Completely knocked out for a good 10 seconds, House could only lean against the board, trying to recover from this one. His head was spinning and his leg decided now was the time to nearly give way on him. He grabbed his cane from the board and turned unsteadily. Wilson was on his feet looking like he was about to spring to House’s side at any moment. House took a step and was hit by a wave of dizziness, and the coughing he had to smother didn’t help either. He’s leg was screaming for attention and without thinking about it, he popped a vicodin and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Cameron said tentatively

“Get on with doing your job” He snapped viciously and limped away. . He stopped at the door and shared a quick glance at Wilson. He tried to just come out and say it, give Wilson a sign he needed help but instead, stubborn pride reared his ugly head and instead he simply glared at him, conveying the silent warning; *Don’t Follow me*. Wilson sighed thinking, *Don’t worry House, I won’t follow you, not till I know what’s going on*

****

Link to comment

Very nice! Noticed much more editing in this part, with you mentioning his cut and everything. Can't WAIT for the next bit...we've pretty much caught up to where you left off last time, havn't we? So the next bit should be completely new...yum... :hypoc:

silentdreamer789

Link to comment

I really really really love the House and Wilson relationship in this!

House knows he needs Wilson and Wilson knows House needs him, but neither one can do anything about it because of House's pride.

OH, I LOVE IT.

My favorite part is House's conscience. That is so cleverly written!

You're awesome! I can't wait till you post the next installment. :hypoc:

Link to comment
  • 2 months later...

Sorry to revive an old thread but this is amazing...just what I've always been looking for! Why are all the other House fics never about House?! Well done with this...was there ever any more posted? Well, anyway, thanks a lot for posting it!

E x

Link to comment

Hello all...

I am finally back, after car crashes and real life hospitals and I am chuffed to announce that I have actually writen more to this.

Estrelleta; thankyou so much for reviving this thread, you actually prompted me to sit down, flex my House muscles and promise myself to finish this thing. :D Can't thank you enough. Also...I love a sneezy House. There will definatly be more where this monster came from...:hug:

Crazy Cat and Silent Dreamer: Thankyou so much for your previous comments, all the enouragement is need with this fic. :laugh:

So without further ado...here we go. ;) I promise, promise I will finish this. There are sooo many more sneezy House MD stories to be told :innocent:

Part 8 at my count;

***

****

Wilson searched...and searched...and searched some more. Surprisingly between having to see his patients and appearing in the clinic ever so often to avoid the Cuddy death glare he had wasted an enormous amount of time searching for House. Wilson had just re-appeared into the clinic to answer what could only be described as a very arsy page from Cuddy when he felt his ‘Gregory senses’ tingling. Wilson’s ears pricked up. Unless he was very much mistaken, and Wilson was very rarely mistaken on matters of House, House was very close by and nursing his diagnostically boring cold. Wilson looked around, his deep brown eyes flicking from consulting room, to waiting area and finally, after a soft muffled cough, turned to look at the big blue door immediately to his right. His eyebrows shot up. He was staring at the Janitors Closet, and with a curious look, his hand reached for the door knob...

***

Inside the cramped closet House had managed to squash his tall thin frame in between an industrial barrel of disinfectant and neat row of massive mops and buckets. One leg was braced against the opposite was whilst his painful, throbbing right let stretched out on top of some boxes. His head lolled against the cool beige walls, his eyes closed listlessly whilst his thumb was absently rubbing the top of his cane.

He was sick. He had finally admitted it to himself, and a rather compassionate looking imaginary Wilson had stopped berating him, as was his normal job as House’s conscience, and merely looked sympathetic. Originally he had not intended to be shacked up in a closet, of all places. After practically storming out of his office to avoid Wilson’s silent offer of help, he had immediately regretted it. A small part of him [imaginary Wilson has insisted it was larger than House would admit it was] wanted to go home, be fussed over and generally be treated like the child who he knew still thrived, deep down inside. However his dominant, tough, ‘I’m a bastard and not afraid of hitting you to prove it’ attitude prevented him from giving in to this urge. He had skulked away to the surgical common room, tried to settle down to eat their food and watch his beloved General Hospital on their widescreen but found it difficult to focus. He was shivering perpetually and when he was happened upon by a surgical intern who looked about 5, House grumpily dragged his heavy aching body off the couch and hunted about for a warm place to try and get some shut eye, in the hope of sleeping for the rest of the day until he could drag his sorry, sneezing form home.

The result of his search for a House friendly cave had been this janitors closet just inside the clinic. The positives were, there was not sympathetic Cameron, floppy haired Australian or caustic Forman to bitch at him. It also was the only closet with its very own central heating vent, he’d checked. Thirdly it was close enough to Cuddy and the clinic that neither she nor Wilson would dream of looking for him here. Not that he would actually mind being found by Wilson, Hell, he felt so terrible that if Wilson turned up, promising a warm car ride home, House would sign up to being the next ex-Mrs Wilson immediately. However, House knew he had hidden too well, knew he was too clever for Wilson, knew that he must protect his distant, uncaring and generally barstard-esque exterior until the last minute, so for now, he was contented to sit on the barrel, lean his feverish head against the cool wall and ride the wave of tiredness until the clock struck 5.

House should have known better.

*************

[NB; everything regarding House inside the closet is in bold, purely for clarification. Hope it helps...might have got too over ambitious for my own good ]

Outside the closet, the loyal James Wilson was about to prove House wrong when from behind him pounced the sound of certain disaster;

“Wilson...Am I unreasonable? Or is it that no one gives a crap about my pages anymore?”

Wilson jumped, his hand retracted so fast he felt his shoulder tense. James quickly turned to see Cuddy’s livid face. He swallowed. What a loaded question that was, if he said yes then he could kiss his Wonder Boy favour goodbye. If he said no, he would be betraying his ‘bro’s before Cuddy’ pack House had made him swear to earlier that week. Either way he better make up his mind soon because Cuddy was looking progressively angrier with ever moment he kept up his internal dialogue. Plumping for classic Wilson, the oncologist decided to be deliberately evasive;

“What has House done now?” Cuddy blinked. Wilson mentally did a victory dance.

House, who had managed to discern his friends familiar voice from inside his closet hideout smiled slightly. Wonder Boy Oncologist was trying to placate the beast, a beast with pointy nails and even pointer shoes. House begrudgingly admired Wilson.

“It’s what he hasn’t done that’s the problem. Where the hell is he?”

Wilson glanced quickly at the enigmatic blue door which hid is annoying, misthanthropic but presently ill, best friend.

‘How should I know? He could be OBGYN making “friends”... ‘ Wilson even did the bunny ears for effect, “ He could be torturing some cripples in Physiotherapy or simply hiding in a janitors closet” The last part a little louder than was necessary.

House smiled a little more. Despite feeling like death warmed up he was enjoying Wilson’s staunch defence of their friendship...not that he would ever tell Wilson that of course.

Meanwhile Cuddy had softened ever so slightly. Sounding a little less like an aggravated piglet, she eyed Wilson suspiciously.

“Never mind House, he’s probably just doing multiple breast exams...What have you been doing all day. Your secretary says you have barely been in your office...and your sure as hell been avoiding me”

“For a start Brenda is new and not really settled in yet...”

Wilson stopped from trying to explain himself as he could have sworn he heard someone stifle a laugh in the closet. Cuddy seemed to have noticed too and raised an eyebrow.

House, unaware of this scrutiny, rapidly stifled 4 wet sneezes, ‘Huuuucchumppp! Chhumppp!..er...err.errchumppp!chhumppp!”. Totally exhausted by the struggle he moaned slightly. Wilson, outside the cupboard, winced visibly.

“Is someone in that closet?” Cuddy looked ready to foil the

House froze. Wilson froze. However, Imaginary Wilson in House’s head smiled, his real life counterpart was too clever to let the evil Dean of Medicine discover his ailing friend.

“Why would someone be in the closet?...” Wilson produced his best innocently curious face knowing that the best place to hide someone was often in plain sight “ then again...Maybe House is in there? Do you think there’s a beach volley ball convention in there?.... Come to think of it why am I out here?”

To Cuddy’s surprise Wilson strode to the door of the closet and rattled the door knob, secretly praising House for having the presence of mind to lock it from the inside.

“Come on House, I know you’re in there man. Whatever happened to bro’s before hoes?....” Silence...and Wilson trying hard not to laugh despite himself continued;

“You can’t have all the hot bikini girls to yourself ...I have to marry one of them remember!” Wilson was making quite a bit of noise and the patients in the clinic were starting to stare. However, for Wilson it was worth it, if him making a spectacle of himself and sacrificing his own marital dignity was what was required he would do it, after all, he was House’s best friend right? Sacrifice was a given.

House panicked slightly. Well, as panicky as he could get in his sluggish, cold ridden state. What on earth was Wilson doing, could he make it any more obvious? Wilson was supposed to be his friend, his saving angle, his oncologist with a soul, yin to his yang, Watson to his Holmes, vicodin to his....House shook his head, enraged. He wished Chase was in the closet with him so he could use his hair as a mop and hit Wilson with Chases’ sopping head! House stifled a cough and was just about to resign himself to facing the Cuddy daemon and his useless idiot of a best friend when he heard;

“Okay...OKAY!” Cuddy conceded, laying a hand on Wilson’s arm to stop the apparent charade. Laughing lightly she walked away from the closet, Wilson secretly elated, following her, “ House hiding there is about as likely as Forman giving up being a doctor and becoming a children’s entertainer....or as likely as one of your secretary’s lasting longer than 2 weeks without...” she trailed off suggestively.

Cuddy was pleased to see Wilson blush slightly, his hair flopping sheepishly over his eyes a little.

House breathed out congestidly, and not for the first time that day, feeling a rush of gratitude towards Wilson. He laid his head back against the wall managing to stifle another 3 wet sneezes. His leg throbbed angrily and he shakily popped a pill, glancing at his watch. Only 3 hours to go.

Outside, Wilson has managed to shepherd Cuddy to her office, promising he would look for House. Cuddy seemed temporarily placated and as he left her office he glanced at the blue door. His plan had worked, for now. All that remained was somehow getting House out of the closet and home to bed. Wilson rubbed his neck pensively. This was going to be a challenge.

***

Hope you liked it...all comments are welcome, even if you only want to bash me for bashing the adorable Chase!

Link to comment
I am so excited to see another installment! You rock, BritishGirl!~

You write House so well!

Im glad you like it. Its been too long and Im sorry for leaving you all on tenter hooks. Im here to stay...with House of course. More tomorrow.

XXX

Link to comment

I rarely read stories anymore but this one caught my attention and I have to say...fabulous!

I cannot wait to read more!!!

Link to comment

Yay for sneezy House, and yay for unintentionally poking you until you wrote more! Hahaha anyway, thank you thank you thank you, and please keep on writing!

E xxx

Link to comment
  • 2 years later...

I know this is an old story, but i just had to tell you how much I enjoyed it! It was so in-character and concise, I loved it :yes:

Link to comment

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...