This very short story was written for the new House/OC Fan Fiction site's Friday Night Challenge. If you like House with other characters, come and visit the site. Send me a message and I'll give you the link. This is not a romance and will not develop into a romance. This is just fun.
Moving - Part 1
Where the hell was his stuff???
For the last two weeks, all of his things had gone missing. Oh, not for long. They always turned up – just in different places. Where they did not belong.
At first it was small moves: his red and grey tennis ball was on top of the coffee maker, his favorite pen from his desk on the fax machine, his red coffee mug on the balcony. All things he hadn't moved in places he hadn't put them.
Then it started escalating. His desk chair had ended up in Wilson's office, his whiteboard in Cuddy's. Needless to say, the recipients of those items were less than pleased.
Nothing was actually stolen – just moved.
Today it was his easy chair. He did not want to think where it would end up.
He found out rather quickly. One of the surgeons called him and told him angrily to get his fucking chair out of his operating room.
He knew it belonged to House because of the big placard taped to it that stated "Property of Gregory House."
He sent Foreman and Taub off to retrieve it and decided that he'd absolutely had enough. He was going to get to the bottom of this no matter what.
The culprit – or culprits – usually did their dirty work at night, but only when he didn't have a patient. He/she/they always made sure he wasn't there.
So they had a key to the office and knew his schedule. Or could find it out.
He started writing on a piece of paper as he considered and dismissed the usual suspects: Wilson and Cuddy.
Wilson wouldn't play games with him at work when he could screw with him at home. Besides, there was no reason for Wilson to screw with him now. He knew the man well enough to realize that he only retaliated on things House did to him, he never made a pre-emptive strike.
Cuddy had certainly done things like this before. But since her involvement with Lucas, she had taken to avoiding him as much as possible. It was easier for her to stay away than to deal with him. He couldn't see her suddenly doing an about face.
No, it was someone else. Someone who was holding a grudge against him for some reason. Of course, that really didn't eliminate many people.
His team crossed his mind too. But they knew how miserable he could make their lives. More miserable than usual, that is.
So it was someone else. But who? He crumpled up the paper he was writing on, since there were really no good ideas on it and tried for a slam dunk into the wastebasket. He missed and the paper ball landed on the rug beside a half dozen others that were failed baskets. He shrugged and got up to go bother Wilson and see what he thought about the mystery. As he did, the crumbs from his morning bagel that had fallen on his desk, hit his trousers. He brushed them on the floor along with the foil wrapper the bagel had come in.
Wilson was with a patient, so House decided to head to coma patient's room for some R&R. Especially since his own easy chair was still en route. First he went to the cafeteria to get a sandwich. He grabbed a tray and got in line.
Damn! No one here he could convince to buy him lunch. He paid for his sandwich and grabbed about a dozen napkins from the box. He dropped the tray on the nearest table and took his food to the elevator.
Forty-five minutes later, his tummy full of reuben, dry (no pickles), he decided he'd better head back to his office and try to solve his little mystery. He left the Styrofoam container and soda cup on coma guy's table and headed back to Diagnostics.
His team was not around, but his chair was back. He decided that some coffee and reading his latest medical journal while relaxing in his chair would be a good use of his time. He went to the coffeemaker, but it was empty. He hated having to make coffee. He opened it up and removed the old grounds by dumping them in the sink. He even went so far as to open a coffee pack. Then he decided that it wasn't worth the trouble. Leaving everything there, he grabbed a package of peanut butter crackers and went to his chair to start reading his journal.
An hour later, as he lay there with his journal spread out on his chest and the cracker wrapper on the floor by the chair, he felt someone shove him. And when he opened his eyes, he saw Cuddy glaring at him.
"You were supposed to be in the clinic an hour ago!"
"I was there! Didn't you see me? Put in two hours of work, wiped lots of runny noses and swabbed crotches. I just got back here!"
"I was just there. And you haven't been. Get down there. NOW"
He thought about how he could get around her, but she turned and marched out of the office.
He sighed. Ever since she'd fallen in love, she just wasn't fun anymore. He got up and the journal fell to the ground. He started to lean down to get it, but his leg was aching and he thought, screw it, housekeeping would pick it up anyway.
He spent the next hour in the clinic, actually doing what he'd told Cuddy he'd done. There were more than his share of runny noses. He went through several pairs of plastic gloves. Most of the discarded ones landed in the trash bin. Some fell a little short and landed on the floor.
When he was finished, he dropped the last file at the nurse's station and trudged back to his office. He picked up his backpack and opened it. What was in the backpack that was taking up so much space? He pulled out several MacDonald's wrappers and an empty water bottle. He dumped the trash on the desk, along with some other papers he didn't need, and left.
As he rode down in the elevator, he thought about his mysterious thief and got an idea.
When he got to the first floor, he called out rather loudly, "Dr. House is checking out for the day! Don't bother me."
The nurses just rolled their eyes and basically ignored him. House was just being, well, House.
He got into his car and thought about his next step. He doubted the thief was doing his/her dirty work while there were still so many people around. They'd get noticed too easily. It had to be after most of the people left and just the night shift was working. They were more concerned with caring for the patients and making it through their shifts. They didn't monitor the offices. That had to be when the culprit was striking.
He drove home, had something to eat, then prepared for his 'mission'. He dressed in black jeans and sweatshirt and put a black wool cap on his head. He put a flashlight in his backpack along with a few other things. Once the sun went down, he headed back to the hospital.