-1CHAPTER THREE - Game of Twenty Questions

Later that night, House sat on the couch in the living room. Although music from The FluMonks was playing on the Bose entertainment system in the background, he was hardly paying attention to the melodic tones of the violin against the raging emotion of the guitar's heart. He simply kept changing the channels on the t.v., never stopping long enough to concentrate on any one channel.

He still wasn't feeling well, even though he forced down some beef bullion soup that tasted like ringed out dirty water from a month's worth of 'wearing the same pair of socks,' (not that he'd ever tasted any, but that's what the kid said it tasted like when he made a schoolmate of his try it on a dare). Occasionally a sharp pain would rip through his stomach and he'd race to the bathroom before all hell broke loose, literally.

What he was really avoiding was the two pages of questions that he had to fill out, no thanks to his trusting and loyal friends that he had, as few as they were. Eventually he looked over at the tri-folded pages, sighed deeply, reached over for his bottle of Vicodin on the end table and downed a few with the last remnants of a mega-sized bottle of water. He propped a pillow on his knees, grasped the pen in his shaking hand and placed the papers on the pillow.

He spent a few more minutes flipping through t.v. channels but finally found the discipline to start filling out the questionnaire.

FULL NAME: Sherlock Holmes

ADDRESS: Baker Street, next to Starbucks

NATIONALITY: 80 German, 12 English, 8 Irish Setter

OCCUPATION: King of the World

DATE OF BIRTH: Never ask a woman her age

PLACE OF BIRTH: In a land far, far away

MEDICAL CONDITION PREVENTING YOUR SELECTION OF JURY DUTY; Yes, I bite

PLEASE EXPLAIN: Scratch, too

Suddenly his train of thought (of whatever little thought there was coming from his brain) by a hard rap on the front door.

"Ah, darnit. I was just getting into it," he mumbled as he threw the items on the couch and went to answer the door, spying into the peep hole first. "My rescuer hath arriveth." His face contorted into what he hoped would be pain and pinched both his cheeks to make them look flushed and bent over.

As he opened the door he groaned, "Jimmy! I need your help." Wilson frowned with worry as he looked upon House's 'self-induced, pathetic attempt at Jury Suicide' and entered.

As House closed the door Wilson turned to look at him. "You look awful. You still sick?"

"No, couldn't feel any better," he answered as he grabbed his stomach and shuffled his feet back to the couch, sitting down heavily.

"Have you taken anything since this morning?" Wilson asked concerned.

House looked up at him like a puppy dog wanting a bone. "No, I said I feel better. But I need you to do my homework. My hand is too shaky and my vision is blurred and…"

Wilson threw his head back, the sympathetic look drained from his face and he put his hands on his hips as it suddenly dawned on him what House truly meant.

"Filling out the Jury paper, aren't you? Oh, God, I can't wait to see this."

Wilson picked up the papers on the couch, sat down and looked at the first answer. "Sherlock Holmes?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, and you're Watson."

"You are so sad, House."

"Would you have me any other way?"

"I wouldn't want you any way at all."

"Oh. Ok, so then, that won't work. Darnit. Want a beer?" House asked. Wilson nodded his head. "They're in the fridge. Get me one too, will ya?"

Wilson snickered before he retrieved a beer for himself and another glass of water for House. When he returned to the couch he noticed what was on the t.v. "The Adventures of Pippie Longstockings?"

"I haven't seen this movie since…since…I was a little girl. Now shut up and finish the questionnaire," House ordered.

"Didn't we already have this conversation this morning? I will not help you!" Wilson said firmly.

"If you don't I'll tell nurse Brenda you want her."

"She wouldn't believe you."

"Why not? Is she a lesbian? I heard the rumor…no, wait, I started the rumor."

Wilson rolled his eyes before he drew his attention to the rest of the questions. "She probably turned you down after you asked her out to dinner. She's a smart woman."

HOUSE MD HOUSE MD HOUSE MD

The next morning, Wilson met Cuddy outside her office door.

"Oh, God. Did House kill a patient already?" she asked as she unlocked the door.

He followed her into her office and unfolded two papers and showed Cuddy.

"Oh, you're kidding me, right? He filled this out? Have a seat, Watson. We have some questions to answer," Cuddy said as she went to a filing cabinet, searched for a particular manila folder and sat back down.

And the two proceeded to complete the questionnaire the correct way.