Chapter 8 Outside of House's Apartment—9:00 PM
Cuddy pulled up outside of the apartment and looked over at him earnestly. "There you go. Are you going to be okay?"
He yawned. "Yeah. You've still got that budget to finish. I want to sleep. See you tomorrow." He kissed her. "Thanks again for everything you did this weekend." With that, he got out and let himself into the building.
"You have no idea, House," she declared snarkily before driving away. She knew a good night's sleep was in order especially when he reacted to the Big Surprise.
Next Morning
Since he had stumbled in the door and hadn't bothered to turn on a light or anything, House slept soundly, still not having any idea of what was going on.
"Yeah, yeah…" He muttered, groggily forcing himself out of the bed and toward the living room. "Shut up!" He whacked the offending item into submissive silence.
As he did so, the world came back into focus.
And in the early morning light, he beheld his apartment.
"WHAT THE HELL?" he exclaimed. "No! No! NO!" He limped as fast as he could throughout the place in total disbelief at the state of affairs.
The whole place was clean and organized. Towels folded. Toothbrushes in place. Dishes done.
He rummaged through the cabinets, taking a good several minutes to find things. "Wilson, I'm going to kill you." Managing to find the coffee, he measured out the grinds and poured water into the coffee maker. Then he started it. "Steve." He looked toward the corner.
His companion ran in place on his wheel, seeming perfectly content. At least there were food and water in there.
"Great." He limped back to the bedroom. What he saw there made his skin crawl.
His comforter had been replaced by a frilly white one with heart patterns on it. Worse, the sheets and pillow shams were pink. He grimaced, thinking he had actually slept there. "That's it. I'll shower at work. I'm getting out of here!" He pulled the closet door open and stared in complete shock. "Oh for the love of Pete!" He grabbed for his vial and downed five pills before he faced what was hanging in wait for him there. Then he glared at the lab coats and Oxford dress shirts in front of him.
"Crap! Where are my clothes?" he groused, grabbing and flinging the coats aside in an effort to find his stuff…but it was gone.
His eyes narrowed. Despite the Vicodin, his leg throbbed. Bad enough he lost his bag…but now he felt violated.
Somebody was going to pay for this….You could bank on that.
He grabbed his cane and toiled angrily into the kitchen.
First coffee then blood letting…..