A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted. I'm dealing with a sick cat. He'll be fine though. The meds the vet gave him for a skin allergy have made him sleepy. Anyway, onward we go...

Chapter Four

Wilson was making breakfast when he heard House's motorcycle roar up the driveway. Wilson watched him make his way into the main part of the house. The door slammed and he heard House whistling. Wilson looked over his shoulder at Amber. She looked up from her iPad with wide eyes.

"He either got fired and doesn't care or he finally got laid," she whispered.

"Oh, I hope he got laid," Wilson whispered back.

House entered the kitchen and sniffed dramatically. "Are those macadamia nut pancakes I smell?"

"Who'd you sleep with?" Amber asked.

House slid into a chair at the kitchen table and smirked. "I diagnosed a patient no one else could."

"How?" Wilson asked as he flipped pancakes on the griddle.

"Some bacon would be really good with those pancakes," House commented as he grabbed Amber's coffee cup and drained it. "I put two and two together and got variably protease-sensitive prionopathy."

Wilson and Amber stared at him in shock.

"That's a death sentence," Amber finally said.

"But now the patient will know what killed her."

Wilson squeezed his eyes closed. "That's nothing to be happy about, House."

"But diagnosing her when none of the other idiots in that ER could is a very good reason to be happy."

Amber tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Does that include Allison?"

"No. She would have figured it out if she wasn't tied to her desk. She's smarter than all those other assholes combined. She could do great things if she weren't so busy pulling pieces of windshield out of car accident victims and reattaching finger tips sliced off from cutting bagels."

"That ER would shut down if it weren't for her," Wilson told him as he pulled bacon from the refrigerator. "It's one of the top ERs in the country because of her."

"Exactly," House said as he got up and grabbed a mug. "She would be a great diagnostician." He poured coffee into his mug and added a generous amount of sugar. He grunted slightly when Amber nudged him aside with her hip. They exchanged a glance before House went back to the table.

"All doctors are diagnosticians," Amber told him as she refilled her coffee cup.

"No, most doctors are idiots. A monkey with a bottle of motrin could do what most of them do." He tried to grab Amber's iPad but she returned to her chair and held it just out of reach.

"Well, be sure to tell the Dean how you feel about his doctors," Wilson said dryly. "I'm sure he'd appreciate your input."

The scent of bacon mingled with the scent of pancakes.

"Actually, the Dean called me up to his office to tell me what a good job I did," House said smugly.

"Aren't you still on probation?" Amber asked before taking a sip of coffee.

"That doesn't matter," House responded sharply. "I got an "atta boy" from the big boss man."

Wilson looked at Amber. She raised her eyebrows and he shook his head.

"Oh, stop with the looks and head shakes. All is well in Houseland. Now, how about some breakfast? I'm starving," House grumbled.

XXX

The following week, a mother brought her baby in and was seen by one of the other doctors. A few minutes later, she left, carrying her child and looking even unhappier than when she arrived. She stopped at the nurse's station and a few minutes later Cameron walked over to talk to her. House passed them and saw her stroke the baby's head. He grabbed a computer cart and headed out to the waiting area.

He dealt with three patients while Cameron talked to the mother. He noticed JoAnn Dixon join them and smirked. She was a plain looking older woman with mousy brown hair she scraped back from her face into a tight bun. House always thought his bedside manner was terrible until he worked with Dixon. She made him look like an angel. She also hated him so he annoyed her as often as possible without actually crossing any ethical or professional lines. It drove her crazy and amused him.

"Doctor House," Cameron called out. "May I see you?"

He looked at his own patient, a beautiful brunette with a deep laceration on her palm from slicing open a bagel. He put a sterile bandage over her partially stitched hand.

"Don't move," he told her with a wink. "I'll be right back."

Grabbing his cane, he limped over to Cameron, Dixon and the mother. The baby was fussy and Dixon was annoyed.

"Why does he need to be here?" Dixon asked as she folded her arms. "Just because he got lucky with that diagnosis last week doesn't mean he's some miracle worker."

House smiled at her and then turned his attention to Cameron.

"What's up, Boss?" he asked, folding both hands on his cane.

"I'd like you to provide a second opinion," she said as she continued to look over the file.

House moved to look over her shoulder at the computer screen. As he read over the list of symptoms, his eyes narrowed.

"A cold?" he muttered. He looked at Cameron. "Want me to examine the baby? I'm stitching up a woman's hand."

Cameron nodded and House led the mother back to a quiet corner of the ER and took the baby from the woman.

"I'm Doctor House, and you are?" he asked as he laid the infant on the bed.

"Regina, Regina Mills. My husband, Daniel, is at work but he can be here if you say so," she said in a shaky voice.

Regina looked about sixteen years old with her wide brown eyes, glossy dark hair in a messy braid, jeans, unlaced sneakers, and stained t-shirt. She placed her hand on her son's leg.

"File says Henry is three months old. Is he lifting his head?" House asked as he examined the baby who watched him with wide brown eyes.

"No," she replied blinking back tears. "He just kind of flops around when I pick him up. And he's kind of yellow, don't you think? I told the other doctor that and she said he wasn't but I think he is. He doesn't want to nurse but he keeps gaining weight and he just lays there when we try to play with him. Also, his tongue seems kinda swollen. Is he going to die?"

House looked at her and noticed she had a scar on her lip. "How'd you get the scar?"

She didn't take her eyes from Henry. "Dog attacked me when I was ten. Is Henry going to be okay?"

"I want to run some tests," he told her.

She grabbed his arm and looked at him in desperation. "Is Henry going to die?"

"I don't know. That's why I need to run tests."

She nodded and removed her hand.

While the techs ran tests and took blood, House grabbed his computer stand and began to read through old medical journals. He smiled when he found what he was looking for and waited for the test results to come back. When they did, he went to talk to Regina.

She was sitting on a stool next to Henry's bed and she watched her son intently as he slept.

"Mrs. Mills?"

Regina looked up at House. She looked exhausted. A young blonde haired man stood on the other side of the bed with his hand on the baby's back.

"This is my husband, Daniel," she told House. "What's wrong with Henry?"

"Congenital Hypothyroidism. His thyroid is non-functional. He has one, but it's very small and isn't secreting the hormone, TSH, needed for growth. I'm going to send a prescription for synthroid to your pharmacy. For now, you'll mix it with your breast milk and give it to him with a dropper. One of the nurses will show you how and give you some samples of the drug. Henry'll take the it for the rest of his life and need to get blood work every three months for the next year so his doctor can adjust the dosage, if needed. He'll catch up on all his developmental milestones in no time. You should also get him an Endocrinologist. He'll need to be monitored on a regular basis. I'll get you a referral."

"That's it?" Daniel asked. "We just give him some medicine? No surgery? We can take him home?"

"That's it. He was tested at birth but he still had enough of his Mom's TSH to keep him going for awhile, which is why it took a few months before he started to show symptoms. I found a case of a woman in Canada who was born without a functioning one. Like your son's, hers was the size of a pea. She had all the symptoms Henry does and they put her on Levothyroxin, which was, at that time, the equivalent of Synthroid. So, Henry will be fine as long as he takes his medication. Every day. For life," he reminded them. "The jaundice, puffiness and all the other symptoms will clear up very fast."

They looked at each other and Regina began to cry. "I knew it wasn't just a cold," she sobbed. "Thank you, Doctor House. Thank you."

He nodded and went to find Cameron. When he found her in the office, he leaned against the door jamb with a smug grin.

"Solved another one, Boss," he said. "Baby boy with Hypothyroidism."

"Wow. That's almost unheard of nowadays, especially in boys. The TSH bloodwork at birth didn't show anything?"

"Nope. And the free T3 and T4 were off the charts. He still had some of Mom's TSH which kept him going for awhile but eventually…since he couldn't make his own TSH…"

Cameron leaned back in her chair. "Impressive," she smiled. "You should write an article and publish it. The Dean loves it when doctors publish."

"Hmm, that's a good idea. Maybe I will." He looked at his watch. "We're off in twenty minutes. Buy me breakfast?"

She laughed. "Okay. You earned it."