Title: Can't always get what you want.
Description: This is just basically a very short House piece where he's dealing with the pain from his leg and he can't cope with it so he reaches for something stronger than vicodin.
Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. or anything to do with it (wail) and I don't own anything to do with the Rolling Stones, even though they rock!
Drugs: I'm afraid in this story there is drug use, so please stop reading now if you don't like that thing. I don't mean to offend anyone so if you don't like drug use STOP READING NOW!
More Information: This is my first House M.D. story so feedback would be greatly appreciated.
The familiar sound of the 'Rolling Stones' filled the quiet apartment, the music bouncing off every appliance in the room. The words filtered through to the corridor outside and people were beginning to moan, once again the music had become too loud for them to bear and if this was going to carry on they'd call the police.
House ignored the hammering on his door, he couldn't be bothered to even move, the pain was too much.
"Oi! Turn that bloody music down or else we'll call the police!"
He closed his eyes and listened to the repeated words
You can't always get what you want,You can't always get what you want,
You can't always get what you want,
And if you try sometimes, you might get what you need.
The hammering continued getting louder and more insistent as the minutes trickled by, his leg seemed to be throbbing in sync with the banging on the door. He knew what he needed but he wasn't ready to give in just yet.
"Okay, that's it we're calling the police now! You'll have to let them in and turn it down!" A voice said behind the door, many murmurings followed this exclamation but he ignored them.
"Oh go ahead." He said quietly, the music still blaring from his speakers and getting louder as the wonderfully heavy drumbeat kicked in. Suddenly the pain in his leg doubled, he clutched it in despair as he desperately bit his lip to stop himself from screaming.
'Okay I can't cope with this anymore.' He thought as the pain started to recede slightly, he stretched his leg out slowly testing to see if he'd be able to make it to his bookcase.
Finally he managed to stand and hobble his way over to the large bookcase against one of the walls. He carefully walked up the small stepladder and felt around at the top of the shelve for a small grey box hidden up there. His hand closed around it and he lifted it carefully off the top shelve and down towards the sofa.
He opened it clumsily, his mind and body demanding the sweet relief that it knew morphine would bring. He pulled out the syringe and carefully drew some of the drug, then he strapped his arm, wiped an alcohol patch on the crook of his arm and tapped it to find the vein. Picking up the syringe he hesitated for a moment, thinking about how Wilson, Cuddy and the ducklings would react if they knew he was taking morphine, but the pain in his leg was building again so he plunged the syringe into his arm and injected the drug into his blood stream.
His head fell back on the sofa as he let the morphine take away his pain, the sweet relief that he had been waiting for all day finally came and he smiled slightly as he heard the distant sound of sirens coming from outside.
Reviews would be greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed reading this story.
Thank-you for reading :)