"And that's why you should never sleep with your mother."

House left the clinic with his stereotypical swagger. He passed the nurses' station and winked through the glass door to Cuddy. She waved him in.

"You rang?"

Cuddy threw a folder down on her desk and pushed it toward House.

"It's time for you to hire a team."

"Me? Hire a team? Why, I'm ten teams in one." He picked up the file.

"It's time for you to teach some other young geniuses so that they can be 'ten teams' one day, too. This world isn't just you and this is a teaching hospital, if you hadn't noticed."

"I'm teaching people all the time," House replied, getting quieter. He thumbed through thoughtfully. "Romio Tagore. You know I don't like Indian food."

Cuddy gave him a look.

"Jack Thompson. Too white," he said curtly. "Is this a candidate file or a therapy list for mommy issues?"

"Look," Cuddy said. "The Board and I have agreed that you cannot continue here unless you choose at least three team members for fellowship positions. We all can and will pull your tenure. I'd rather have a semi-genius that can pass on his skills than a hermit genius that won't play the game."

"Oh, I'd play a lot of games. This one's just not as appealing as others," House said, dropping the file. He looked at Cuddy's legs. "Going to bend over and pick that up for me?"

Cuddy shook her head and knelt to get the folder.

House cocked his head.

"The land down under," he said. "I noticed you slipped an Aussie in there. The fun we'll have."

-

"Joanne's mother just died," Wilson said as he and House ate in the hospital cafeteria.

House dangled a croissant in front of his face. "And that's why I should never sleep with her mother," he said.

"What?"

"Nothing. So, you get to attend a funeral. Too bad I'll be stuck here sizing people for their doom." House's eyes went wide.

"You can get a little cocky after having saved so many people. You deserve it, but you still should have a team. You should be teaching others what you know."

House faked confusion. "You mean, teach others how to be me? Let's see. I could get a time machine. Well, a shrink ray. Well, a de-aging ray. What's the prescription for turning people into children again? I forget."

"They don't need to BE you, House. I wouldn't wish that on anybody, but they need to see how you solve cases. It's a gift you have to share with the world."

House put the last bit of croissant in his mouth. "Sharing. What do you think I am, a communist?"

"I think you're a friend," Wilson said. "I think you're a money-borrowing, food-stealing friend."

"I think you want me to pick someone out of the stack just for you. That, or you want me to go to a funeral. I'd much rather pick the hot blonde you want to sleep with than pretend to mourn with the decent blonde you're cheating on."

"Dr. Allison Cameron. Just give her file a twice over, will you?"

"Oh, I'll give it three," House stood up. "For you."

-

"Your chart says that you're anemic," House said to the five year old patient sitting in the clinic. The little boy nodded.

"Well, that's normal." House looked up at the child's mother and nodded. "Isn't that normal?" She got the message and reassured her son.

"Oh, that's very normal, sweety. Very...treatable."

"There are three things," House emphasized, "that can ward off vampires. Holy water. Crosses. Garlic." He pulled out a needle. "Anemics would be number four unless Count Dracula suddenly turns vegan, which I wouldn't put past him. He is so upper class."

The mother looked confused.

"Now, Superman. He's another issue altogether. Heat ray. Cold breath. X-Ray vision. To ward that off, well, you'd need lead, which you've been eating off the walls in that fun old playhouse sitting in your backyard." He looked at the boy who was shaking his head. "Shed?" The boy shook his head again. "Treehouse?" The child nodded.

"Shot?" House said, holding up the needle. The boy shook his head again.