Disclaimer: House MD is the intellectual property of Mr. David Shore, and most sadly, I am not he.

Five

Two days later, and seven more fellows down, House was running out of obnoxious ways to get people to quit. The jig was up, and the remaining twenty seven had decided to simply put up with the 'Kick Me' signs, dribble glasses and whoopee cushions in an effort to out wit, out last and out play their competitors.

Cuddy had barred him from sending any of the new crew to the clinic and there wasn't an infectious disease to be had at PPTH. Still, twenty seven doctors were a few too many for House to want to deal with. This morning, he'd woken up with a brand new plan to winnow down his choices.

"Good morning class," House said brightly as he limped into the conference room on that sunny Wednesday morning. "Since we are still without a patient, today we'll be working on honing one of the most basic skills a good doctor needs."

Fifty four eyes rolled heaven-ward in dread and anticipation of what could possibly be coming next. Rustling of lab coats and shuffling of feet whispered through the eerily silent conference room while the anxious fellows waited for House to reveal his next dastardly plan.

Finally, 21 gathered up his courage and broke the silence. "What skill?"

"Sleep deprivation!" House said happily. A few of the fellows groaned. Of course all of them had survived their share of sleepless nights through med school, internships and residencies, but none of them had ever actually been tested on it.

"How are you going to test us on that?" 9 asked tentatively.

"I'm so glad you asked," House said with what could only be described as a disturbingly gleeful tone. He walked out of the conference room to his office and returned with a stack of crossword puzzle books that had somehow been absent from Chase's locker when he'd cleaned out his belongings. He tossed the puzzle books, along with several dozen pencils, onto the conference table haphazardly.

"We are having a crossword puzzle tournament," House announced. The fellows looked at each other warily. So far, this sounded too easy. "There will be scheduled bathroom and food breaks, lasting no longer than ten minutes. First five to fall asleep get the ax; last man awake wins,"

"Wins?" 22 asked eagerly.

"That's right, ladies and gents, this is your first chance at proving yourself worthy of the privilege of my tutelage. The tournament winner is guaranteed a spot on my new team." House smirked as he watched his fellows eagerly begin snatching at the puzzle books and pencils. He limped toward his office and paused in the doorway.

"Have fun."

"House," Cuddy sighed as she walked into his office near midnight to find him lounging in his yellow chair, "do you know the definition of the word hazing?"

"I do. Do you know the definition of the word conservative?" House countered as he stared pointedly at her cleavage.

"I don't know why I'm surprised to have to explain this to you, but you can't …"

"I can't what? Make sure that my new team is capable of thinking critically while under the stress of having to perform on little to no sleep? Something, coincidentally, they'll be required to do on a weekly basis during their employment here?" House asked.

"That's not …"

"So the next patient who's dying in the middle of the night, I should tell them … what? Sorry, you'll have to wait until office hours, my ducklings need their beauty sleep?" House demanded.

"House, try to be reasonable …"

"I am being reasonable. I need to know I can count on them not to turn into pumpkins at the stroke of midnight. I've already had two fall asleep and one quit in a storm of tears. If they can't handle a crossword puzzle, how are they going to hold up when they've got a patient's life in their hands?" House barked at Cuddy. He used his cane to help pull himself up from the chair and limped toward the conference room, grabbing a lupus textbook from his desk as he passed.

THUD!

"12 and 21, wipe the drool off your chins and pack up your lockers!" House shouted at the two fellows who had fallen asleep while he talked to Cuddy. Cuddy shook her head as she watched the two disappointed fellows leave the conference room, but she left without further protest to House's methods.

At 4:17am, House and 5 watched as 37's head dropped for the final time. According to House's rules, which had resulted from a bitter dispute between 9 and 23 as to what constituted sleeping, 37 had exactly two minutes to lift his head and open his eyes before he was eliminated.

At 4:19am, House filled his red coffee mug with cold water from the sink and upended it over 37's head, eliminating him from the competition. Spluttering and cursing under his breath, 37 slunk out of the conference room, his shoulders hunched in defeat.

"23 across is Alceste," House said over 5's shoulder.

"Alceste?"

"Moliere protagonist, seven letters," House confirmed and then smiled a rare smile. "The Misanthrope."

"Why do you know that?" 5 asked.

"The better question is, why don't you?"

If you've never read The Misanthrope ... you're probably less nerdy than myself!