Wilson had always wanted to read War and Peace. After he moved out of House's apartment, he figured that that would be a good time to do it. But one thing led to another and he only managed to finish about half of the novel. When the landlord of his apartment was arrested for smuggling drugs through the basement and the building was closed,
Wilson had to move back in with House. He figured that he could try to keep reading, but soon found that he was getting plenty of war, and not much peace.
Quickly he gave up on the book and went for a shorter read. War and Peace became David Copperfield which turned into Frankenstein... Wilson figured he should find away to avoid House before the most challenging thing he could manage to get through was Harry Potter.
He ended up picking up A Clockwork Orange at a used bookstore on the way home from work one day. Back at the apartment, he settled down on the sofa and opened the novel figuring that, since House was still at work, he'd be safe for at least a short time.
Before he had even read the first line, Wilson's cell phone rang. He answered it, "Hello?"
"Forty-year-old man, no previous signs of illness, collapses on an escalator, goes into a coma."
"Isn't this what your... team is for?" Wilson asked.
"They're a bunch of idiots. You're slightly less of an idiot."
"Gee, thanks." Wilson hung up the phone and turned back to his book. What's it going to be then, eh? The phone rang again. Wilson ignored it. Then the house phone rang. Wilson didn't even know it was connected. He got up and answered it.
"Patient has gone in to a seizure," House's voice came across the line
"While he's in the coma?"
"Yes."
"You have a neurologist working with you; I'm sure Foreman can give you better advice than I can."
"Foreman's an idiot."
"Cuddy, then."
"Hot idiot," House answered.
"Why are you bothering me, House?"
"Are you having sex?"
"What? What would make you think I'm having sex?"
"Well, you sound defensive. And usually you don't try to avoid talking to me."
"I'm trying to read a book."
"Is that what they're calling it these days?"
"I'm hanging up now," Wilson said. He did. He sat back down on the sofa. Quickly, he became engrossed in the book. He didn't look up until a knock came at the door about twenty minutes later. Wilson stood up and opened the door. House stood outside, holding a manila folder.
"Why did you need to knock on the door of your own apartment?" Wilson asked.
"Dramatic effect." He held out the file to Wilson. Wilson rolled his eyes and took it.
"I was trying to read, you know."
"But you'll help anyway," House said, feeling sure of himself. "You can't resist helping people. It's your worst quality."
"Most people would see it as a desirable quality."
"No, a desirable quality is not getting up in the middle of the night to go to the hospital to help people. A desirable quality is not knocking all of the blankets to the floor when you get up to leave to go to said hospital. You possess neither of these desirable qualities."
Wilson smiled and opened the folder. Then he followed House out the door, leaving his book opened on its spine, completely forgotten. That was how it would stay.