This is my first house fanfic. so plz be easy on me. :)
i read Sherlock Holmes, and i was like, omg, if i put this into modern language and make it house and wilson, this would be histarilical! so, i did.

Rating: I guess T; mention of alcohol use
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship
Summary: a short little story of house and wilson going to the hospital; based on the story "the stockbrokers clerk"
Disclaimer: i do not own house md. if i did, house/wilson would have happened a long time ago. i do not own Sherlock Holmes. if i did, watson/holmes would have happened a long time ago.

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Shortly after the marriage of my second wife, I had started my career at Princeston Plainsboro, The department head was getting old, and was soon too retire. My boss implied that I may obtain his previous position. I had confidence that my strong energy and enthusiasm bought me the position. During the first three months of my new position, my work kept me very busy and I saw little of my friend Greg. I was too caught up in my work, and he seldom went anywhere himself unless it was because of professional business, like breaking into patients homes. I was surprised, in early June, as I sat reading the British Medical Journal, I heard the doorbell ring, and the familiar tone of my companion's voice.

Letting himself in, "Ah, my dear Wilson, I am very delighted to see you!" he said with heavy sarcasm. "I trust that your wife has entirely recovered from all the little excitements with our adventures with scotch?"

"Thank you, we are both well" I said with even more sarcasm, as he knew of my wife's hate of him, and her constant threatening of divorce.

"And I hope, also," he said as he plopped himself down on the rocking chair, "that the need to care for your bald cancer kiddies has not entirely wiped away your interest in which you used to take in our little deductive problems."

"On the contrary", I started, "it was only last night that I was looking over some of your old cases..."

"I hope that you don't think that i wont have anymore cases that need a such a dedicated oncologist?"

"Not at all. I wait in my office all day waiting for you to barge in and stick me in with one of your riddles."

"So, today would be good then?"

"If you want to. But I'm an oncologist, not a diagnostician." I sighed.

"Were going to go as far into the suburbs are Birmingham."

"Whatever." I said, wishing for him to hurry this up.

He leaned back in his chair and looked keenly at me from under his half-closed lids. "I see that you haven't been well. Summer colds are always a bitch."

"I was stuck in my house for 3 days last week with a horrible cold. I thought that it had gone away..."

"Its gone, but you still look remarkably hot." he winked.

Ignoring his comment, "Then how did you know that I was sick?"

"You know my methods." he stated mysteriously...

"You deduced it, then.'

"Of, course." He expressed confidently.

"How?" I was genual curious, I felt ten times better then yesterday, and my fever was gone

"From your slippers." From my slippers? That's either really clever or really creepy.

"How on earth..." I started.

"Your slippers are new," he said. "You couldn't have had them more than a few weeks. The soles which you are at this moment presenting to me are slightly scorched. For a second, I thought they might have got wet and been burned in the drying. But near the instep there is a small circular wafer of paper with the shopman's hieroglyphics upon it. Damp would of course have removed this. You had, then, been sitting with your feet outstretched to the fire, which a man would hardly do even in so wet a June as this if he were in his full health."
Like all House's reasoning, the thing seemed simple when it was explained He read the thought across my face, and his smile had a tinge of bitterness.

"I am afraid that I give myself away when I explain." he sad with a tone of regret. "Results without causes are much more impressive. You are ready to come to Plainsboro. then?"

"Sure. What is the case?"

"You'll hear it all in the car. My patient has escaped, but should be caught by the time we get there. Can you come now?"

"Why not? I scribbled a note to explain this to my wife; not really wanting to hear a rant about how I should stay home more or not being with house so much, or just yelling at me.

I then had to get a new shirt on, fix my hair, and then grab my coat. Then, I joined house on the doorstep.

"Are you ready yet, princess?" He said with annoyance.

I chuckled, "Sure"