The first of three alternative epilogues.
A Personal Guide
House's alarm clock pealed promptly at 9:30 AM in the morning.
"Wake up, sunshine!" a British voice trilled in his right ear. "It's Christmas day! Wakey-wakey!"
"Whozzat?" House mumbled, still half-asleep, figments of the bizarre night still embedded in his frazzled mind.
Something clicked, and the alarm clock stopped pealing.
"You're personal guide, Dr. House," the British voice said brightly straight into House's right ear. "I figured that it's going to take all day to plan a return to your friend Wilson's good graces and come up with a wickedly exceptional strategy to trump that card Tritter in your trial."
How odd that his "guide" seemed to be tickling his earlobe…
With a start, House became fully awake and turned his head slowly to the right—and beheld Steve McQueen sitting all prim and proper on House's pillow.
"Steve?!"
"Right-o!" Steve said brightly, sitting up straighter and twitching his whiskers.
"You're my personal guide?!" House's voice was getting louder by the second. He jumped out of his bed and landed on his hands on the floor. A small weight pressed on his buttocks and skittered up on his back to his shoulder.
"Are you all right, Dr. House?" Steve asked into House's left ear.
House leaned his head forward and groaned, wondering if Uncle George would kill him outright if he gave Steve a fatal, cane-shaped blow to the head.
Fin