Disclaimer, etc. in chapter 1.

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D is for Detective

Even with his eyes closed, House could detect the presence of Wilson's niece peering through the crack in the door.

Brown eyes remarkably similar to Wilson's met his when he lifted his eyelids.

She didn't hesitate, slipping through the door as soon as she'd seen him notice her.

"Uncle James wants to know if you're ready to come out," she said matter-of-factly, her hands clasped together politely in front of her body.

House lifted his head. "Uncle James sent you to ask me that?"

She rocked on her heels, slowly glancing sideways. "Not exactly," she answered. "But he wants to know."

"You mean you want to know," House supplied.

She shrugged, her lips squishing together, and rocked on her heels again.

Neck beginning to ache, House pushed himself up on his elbows. "What's wrong with 'Judy,' Judith?"

She stopped rocking and confronted him with one of those Wilson stares. "It's not very adult."

House pulled his face into a partial 'you're an idiot' expression. "Neither are you," he replied, taking his time to look her over as she'd looked him over in the driveway. "Yet."

She ignored his comment and took a step closer, insatiably curious. House could feel the question coming.

"What happened to your leg?"

"I fell down," House answered.

She tried to mimic the adult eye-narrowing, but, House noted, her face wasn't quite grown up enough to pull it off.

"Uncle James said you had an infarction," she said, taking another step closer.

House pulled his face again. "'Infarction' is a big doctor word for 'I fell down'." Part of him was very annoyed with Cupcake right now and vowed revenge.

"He said it left a scar," she stated, her eyes wandering over his blue jeans, trying to see through them. "Can I see?"

House narrowed his eyes theatrically. "What would I get out of it?"

"I'll show you my appendix scar," she said hopefully. Then her face and shoulders drooped. "It's kind of boring."

House nodded emphatically. "Appendix scars usually are."

She studied the floor for a moment, then looked up at him with hope, the question flashing in her eyes again. Can I see?

House sighed, hating himself for feeling obligated to conform to convention.

"Do you know what happens when a man my age pulls his pants down in front of someone your age?" he asked.

Judith blushed slightly, staring at the floor, and clasped her hands behind her back. "He goes to jail."

"Sucks, doesn't it?" House said.

She nodded, clearly disappointed, and drew her lips inward until they formed a tiny ball. Then she looked up at him again.

"You and Uncle James are friends," she said.

House lifted an eyebrow. "What's it to ya?"

She rocked on her heels again, apprehensive about something. House watched her fight the apprehension. He liked this kid.

"There are these men who live on our street," she began. "They're really nice."

She rocked again, stared at the floor again, fought apprehension again. House waited, enjoying the show.

"Dad used to say they were friends that lived together," she ventured. "When I asked. When I was little," she clarified.

She looked at him squarely again. Another Wilson stare. "Now he says they're homosexuals. Like this girl in my class—she has two mothers. They're lesbians. They're nice too."

"Lots of nice people where you live," House observed.

She nodded, scrutinizing him carefully. House threw the same scrutiny back at her.

For a full minute they stared at each other, like two dogs deciding whether to fight.

Against his wishes, House acted his part as the adult and broke first. "Go tell Uncle James I'll be out in a minute."

She nodded sharply, still trying to read him, and left in a posture that let him know how reluctant she was to end the conversation.

House lay back again and stared at the ceiling, smiling slightly to himself. Yes. He liked this kid.