PROLOGUE
There had been signs. House had just been too bleary-eyed to read them for what they were.
The strong smell of Febreze, with a slight, but recognizable base note of burnt toast in the kitchen gave him pause, and when he spotted the single coffee ring on the otherwise pristine counter, he began to connect the dots.
There was the black umbrella leaning next to the front door that he had walked past on his way from the bathroom. Someone had either been in a hurry or had decided to ignore the weather warning in place for today.
And he noticed the lunchbox filled with something that looked like a pre-schooler's plasticine model, but was probably meant to be Wilson's lunch - forgotten in the fridge. House shuddered and reached past it to pull out some leftover pizza for breakfast.
He then remembered the banging that had woken him earlier. At the time he had just pulled a pillow over his head and gone back to sleep.
Wilson wouldn't tolerate a coffee stain on his precious kitchen counter. He wouldn't leave without an umbrella when the forecast called for rain. And that carefully prepared lunch, however disgusting it looked, was meant to be sitting in the fridge in the oncology lounge by now.
Following up on the noise that had woken him earlier in the morning, House discovered a used mug and a cracked plate dumped in the sink instead of washed on the draining board, and the burnt remains of two slices of bread in the trash.
He turned to get some coffee from the thermos Wilson thoughtfully filled every morning but found yesterday's offerings instead, cold by now. He poured a cup anyway and nuked it. While he waited for the microwave to do its job, he munched on cold pizza and speculated on what could've happened to disrupt Wilson's morning routine that much.
