"Wilson, it's three am, you gotta sleep." House was awake. He'd been asleep all day; his patient had died. Simple drug overdose that he'd lied about, and the tests had been tampered with.
"I can't, House."
"Count sheep."
"Tried it."
"Drink warm milk?"
"We don't have any milk."
"But I just bought so--"
"You left it in the door of the fridge, House."
"Sorry."
"It's fine." Wilson looked in the cabinet for some sleeping pills. Finding some, he got some water from the kitchen.
"Wilson, wait!" House almost shouted, worried. He didn't want Wilson to end up in the hospital. However unlikely it was, something could go wrong. "How about a lullaby?" Lullabies weren't dangerous.
Wilson paused. "House, I'll just take these, it'll be fine."
"No, it won't. C'mon, I'll play that Beatles one you like."
"You mean the one you like." Wilson replied, walking to the couch, and sitting down.
"Whatever." He took a seat on the piano bench and played a few notes to kick start his memory. "Ready?" He asked, looking over at Wilson,who was now lying down. He nodded.
"Okay then." He played the opening chords, softly, slowly, and made his way into the song.
"Now it's time to say goodnight
Goodnight, sleep tight
Now the sun turns out his light
Goodnight, sleep tight..."
By the time he had finished, after playing a few added notes, the notes that Wilson had wanted to learn – and failed at doing so, he looked to Wilson, who was now asleep, eyes closed and peaceful.
House grabbed a blanket and pillow from his room – the spare room – and tucked Wilson in, a kiss placed on his temple.
"Goodnight, Wilson."