The man on EBay lied…. For those of you who were anxiously awaiting my ownership of the fantastic show House, MD, it has yet to arrive. You guys will be the first know if I do, though….
(2 weeks later)
"This child has clearly been living in an unsuitable environment. Traces of alcohol were found in her body and multiple scars indicate previous abuse. She has been living parentless for almost a year."
I rolled my eyes. Abuse? Please. I had gotten those scars when I fell down the stairs of the apartment 3 years ago. I passed out because of dehydration, which any decent social worker would know. I sat still while that moronic woman blabbered on.
"Ms. Brown, you said that Alana's mother died a year ago, but made no forward mention of her father." The white haired judge leaned forward, tilting his chair to do so. I shook my head, clearing the spacey thoughts from my head.
"Judge, uh, Morrison, my mom never talked about me dad, she only said that he was a doctor." I decided to keep the apple thing to myself. I looked straight at him, and his eyes flickered in recognition.
For a moment he looked deep in thought. "Ms Kennedy, I think I might have an idea of who your father is. If I'm right, there will be no need to put you into foster care. Court adjourned."
The social worker gaped, and I smirked. Where could this possibly go?
If I had stopped it there, I don't think I'd ever forgive myself…
Gregory House tipped back in his chair, practically brimming with satisfaction. He had just figured out another case, burst in, saved the patient from dying, and checked out Cuddy's ass all at the same time.
His phone buzzed lightly in his coat pocket, sending him into a debate of whether or not to answer it. Fortunately, Wilson saved him the effort, walking into his office (He learned not to knock a long time ago…) and picked it up.
"Hello, this is Gregory House speaking." Wilson said. House couldn't hear what the voice on the other end said, but he thought that it sounded exasperated.
Wilson held out the phone. "He wants the real doctor House."
House had half a mind to close the phone like he would have done with any other caller, but curiosity got the best of him. "Yeah," he said.
"House?" He recognized that voice. Hundreds of lawsuits left him wary of that old, official-sounding voice. "There's an…issue that I think you might be interested in. Come down to the court house later, and we'll discuss it."
What issue? What could be so bad that Morrison would dread it? He hadn't killed anyone lately. Blackmail, no. What could it be?
"Alright, Morri! See ya then. Hey, maybe we could go for a drink afterwards. You like gin, right?" The stunned silence at the end of the line was enough for House. He snapped the phone shut, a million questions running through his head.
Wilson, as usual, looked skeptical. "What did you do this time?"
"No clue. Wanna go bowling?"
"But you just said-" Wilson started. House rolled his eyes. "Fine."
House grabbed his cane and headed for the door.