Dr. Sherringford Holmes-Lestrade slowly walked into the hospital building in front of him. His seeing-eye cane was folded up and clenched loosely under his left arm and he kept a tight hold on the harness of his service dog, Casper with his right hand. There was a reason for his tight hold on Casper, the young golden retriever was barely three months into his service. After Sherringford had graduated Med school and moved to America for a job offer, his Papa had insisted on Sherringford having a service dog, despite the fact that the twenty two year old had been blind since the day he'd turned four. It was Retinoblastoma in both eyes, they managed to save his eyes themselves...but his vision was too far gone. He was completely blind.

His parents had been overly protective of him ever since. Sherringford had decided to not fight with his Papa on the subject of a service dog, especially because he knew that his Uncle John and Uncle Sherlock, his Dad and everyone else would take his Papa's side. Even though his Uncle Sherlock usually sided on his nephew with matters like these.

Papa even managed to convince his older cousins, Hamish and Molly that it was a good idea. Damn him. Though having Casper around wasn't as bad as he had thought. The dog brought him companionship in a country he was new too. He also didn't need to use a cane when Casper was around.

Casper was also the only reason he hadn't tackled the cleaning supplies cart that someone had left in front of the automatic doors. The golden retriever had yanked him out of its path, true that it sent him stumbling backwards onto his ass, but it was the thought that counted. But surprisingly he didn't land on his ass, he stumbled into someone else. Which it how he ended up splayed on the floor, an elbow shoved into the stomach of someone else. He could taste the rusty tang of blood in his mouth along with a short burst of pain across the front of his face. Which signaled the fact that his nose was bleeding, that and the low whines coming from Casper as he nudged the young doctor with his wet nose.

"Oh God, are you alright?"

Sherringford felt himself being helped off the floor by the man he'd accidentally slammed into. When the unnamed man saw the blood seeping out of Sherringford's nose and down his face, he cursed fluently under his breath. He gently slid his hands under the young doctor's chin and lifted his face to further study the gush of blood. But Sherringford just smiled and began to dust off his clothes, gently waving off the helpful man he had accidentally gutted.

"I'm fine, no harm done. Sorry about that by the way."

Sherringford said sheepishly, running a hand through his curly ginger locks. He'd been told that his hair was a bright reddish shade, that his eyes were a hazy green color and his pale skin was covered by freckles. He honestly didn't care what he looked like however, it wasn't like he could see himself anyway.

"No, totally my fault. You should probably head over to the clinic with me, I think your nose is broken, it's over here."

The young British doctor just smiled as he heard the other doctor's footfalls, he was walking away. Sherringford just mentally shrugged, he could find his own way it really didn't matter. He groped around until he found the familiar cold exterior of his seeing eye cane and grabbed Casper's harness with the other. That was when he heard several hurried footsteps coming towards him. Then they stopped abruptly.

"Aren't you going to...oh...I didn't realize you were...you didn't tell me you were..."

"Blind? Yeah, I kind of wanted you to by me a drink first."

Sherringford joked and he could tell that the other doctor was smiling by the small chuckle the older man let out. The Brit hurriedly extended a hand and the older man clasped it happily. His hands were soft and uncalloused, rich doctor's hands like Sherringford's.

"Dr. James Wilson."

"Dr. Sherringford Holmes-Lestrade."

He knew, even without seeing him, that Wilson's brow was furrowing at Sherringford's long ass name. He honestly wondered what his fathers had been thinking, but then again he did have a father named Mycroft and an uncle named Sherlock.

"That sure is a mouth-full."

"Not the word choice I would've chosen but yep."

Sherringford just shrugged and ran a hand through his thick red curls once again. Wilson gently placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, trying to lead him and Sherringford just let him. People always did that the first time he told them, they felt the need to protect him, to guide him and if he declined their help, they would be offended. It was an annoying nonstop circle.

"Do you happen to know a doctor named Gregory House?"

He felt the older man instantly stiffen and he knew that there was something there. He'd decided to come to America from England to accept the job offer of working on Dr. Gregory House's team. His family had too much of a connection in England, he came to America to make his own image, not steal from his Uncle's or his Father's.

"Why are you looking for House?"

"I'm supposed to be a new member to his team."

He could tell that Wilson was surprised by his answer but the older doctor just shrugged and smiled at Sherringford kindly. He could tell by the way the older doctor was opening and closing his mouth nervously that he was trying to ask something that he was scared Sherringford wouldn't like.

"So how did you...um..."

"Go blind? Retinoblastoma in both eyes, they managed to save my eyes but not my vision."

The older doctor looked at the younger with the upmost concern, the younger knew it was there but he was glad that he couldn't see.