A Case of House and Holmes

By Michael Weyer

As much as I disdained the personal behavior of Gregory House, I had to admire the way the man immediately leaped into action when it came to a medical mystery. Within moments, he was working in a small lab along with his staff, who seemed equal parts intrigued and baffled at what he was doing.

"How many times did I ask if you all checked everything?" House began as he examined the small beaker holding the salvia he had taken from Miller's mouth. "Don't bother, rhetorical, but an answer would be appreciated nonetheless."

"We checked the victims all over," Chase was saying.

"Including the mouths?" House asked. "Cause if I can see it, you should too. It's the leg that's bad, not the eyes."

He handed the beaker containing the salvia to Foreman. "Here, put this under the microscope."

"Um, what if it's poisonous?" The black man asked.

House just blinked. "That's why I'm asking you to do it."

Foreman just rolled his eyes as he took the beaker and moved to the microscope. Holmes and I were standing nearby, watching with interest as House sat on a small chair, tapping his cane on the floor. "So we have a dead man who has apparently been killed twice. I know the British tend to overcompensate but that's a bit extreme."

"If he died from this mysterious illness," Cameron began. "I guess they wanted to hide----"

"Don't call it an illness," House interrupted. "Someone targeted this man which means whatever this thing is, it's a weapon."

I frown. "A virus used as a weapon?"

"It's not unheard of, Watson," Holmes stated. "It's an ancient practice to unleash animals carrying diseases into enemy camps to create a plaque. Not just during the Crusades but also in the East."

"Yes but to civilians?" I shook my head. "It seems so…unorthodox."

"I've got something," Foreman announced as he studied the microscope.

"I keep telling you to bathe more and that won't happen, monkey," House remarked.

He glared before rising up. "Look at this." Chase came to look first, followed by Wilson, each seeming surprised at what they saw. House managed to lean up to look himself and let out a low whistle. "Verrrry interesting."

"What?" Lestrade impatiently asked. "What is interesting?"

"Someone silence that chattering?" House asked as he kept studying the contents of the microscope. "It's cutting into my concentration."

"What is it you've discovered, Doctor?" Holmes asked.

House nodded at the microscope. "It seems that the salvia has traces of curare in it."

"Curare?" I frowned. I furrowed my brow as I tried to place the name. It sounded familiar but I couldn't quite narrow it down.

"Curare?" Holmes asked it less out of confusion and more by surprise. "Hmmm…I've heard of it. A drug used by native tribes in South America, dating back centuries. It often induces paralysis."

"Ah, the benefits of an Oxford education," House intoned. "Yes, it does indeed do that. It also creates death via asphyxiation, rather sudden and with little trace."

"Which may well be the cause of death," Wilson noted.

"Which brings us to the key question," House said as he leaned back in his chair. "How did these people contract curare poisoning?"

"Maybe they all went to South America recently?" Chase asked.

House nodded. "All right…now can we hear an idea that isn't completely stupid?"

Chase frowned. "What's wrong with that theory?"

"Have you seen the list of victims?" House asked. "A banker, a dockworker, a street walker, a teacher? None of them have ever left London, let alone been to South America. Nope, whatever this is, someone brought it to these shores."

"There must be some sort of common link," Holmes stated, rubbing his chin. "One moment." He moved to the files House's team had organized and began to go through them. "Hmm….are these accurate portrayals of where they had been?"

"We did our best interviewing family and friends," Cameron piped up. "It was difficult in some cases but we think we've painted a good picture."

Holmes glanced through them and I saw the light flare in his eyes as he made a connection. He flipped through several of the pages, reading over the notes on them and slowly nodding. "Yes…Yes, I see it now."

"See what?" Lestrade asked, impatient once more.

Holmes brought the files over to House. "What do you think?"

House leaned over to look and slowly nodded himself. "Yeah…not bad…not bad at all…"

Lestrade was quickly losing his patience. "Would one of you gentlemen mind informing the rest of us what you've found?"

Holmes held up the papers. "It appears that the victims may have led different lives and lived in different places. However, one thing in common is that they were all in the same area of south London roughly a week ago."

Cameron was instantly alert. "Maybe we should alert the authorities, it could be an epidemic."

"If it was, we'd have a lot more cases," House sardonically noted. "Whatever happened, it's localized and only struck these specific victims."

Holmes tapped his fingers on a table in thought before glancing to me. "It would appear, Watson, that there are certain things regarding this case that I am not privy to."

For once, I could see where Holmes was leading. "This is no accident. These people were selected for a reason. Perhaps they saw something on that day?"

Holmes nodded. "Yes, something that someone was willing to kill in order to keep silent." He took a deep breath. "Sadly, it appears that there is only one place to go to in order to get the proper information."

"Your brother?"

He solemnly nodded. He then turned to Lestrade. "Inspector, we shall have to be back in touch with you later. Hopefully, we'll have more information then."

"Hold on," House said as he stood up. "I'm coming with."

Holmes stopped by the door and turned, a frown on his face. "Why?"

The doctor began to limp over. "Well, partly because you're such a charming and wonderful conversationalist," he dryly stated. "But mostly because I want to find out what is going on here and I'm willing to put up with you to do it."

He turned to his charges. "You all get working on that body, look for any more traces. Double-check the other victims too. Chase, try not to faint this time and Cameron, would it kill you to clean up right afterward?"

The group glared at him as he limped along with Holmes and myself toward the waiting coach.

"So just what does your brother do?" House asked as we rode toward the Diogenes Club.

"That is an excellent topic for discussion," Holmes stated in a dry tone. "Suffice to say, my brother takes a different approach to criminal matters than I do."

"Oh so he only annoys the inner workings of small hospitals?" House asked.

Holmes shot him a quick glare. "My brother has a position with the government, one he likes to keep secret."

"Head of the oral hygiene board? By the way, wonderful thing we just invented in America, it's called toothpaste, try it sometime."

"Sir, must you be so belligerent all the time?" I asked impatiently, tired of this man's arrogant attitude.

"I must, I must," he said in a playful tone and I believed it best not to press the issue further. Holmes evidentially agreed with me as we kept silent until reaching the club.

The Club was dimly lit, the porter letting us in and to Mycroft's room. It was rather opulent with top-of-the line decorations and furniture, all expensive looking, a contrast to Holmes' more sparse abode. Mycroft himself was seated in a large chair that I suspected was actually built for his bulky dimensions.

House took one look at the elder Holmes and rolled his eyes. "Well, now I know where you were those years when the world believed you were dead. You were hiding in your brother's stomach."

Perhaps it was my imagination but I almost thought I saw Holmes' lips turn up at that. Mycroft was just sipping some tea when he saw us approach. "Sherlock," he boomed. "I didn't expect to see you back here so soon." He glanced at House. "And this must be the infamous Dr. Gregory House."

"Infamous? I'd pick notorious myself," House said as he sank into a chair. Seeing a waiter pass by with a tray of drinks, he nonchalantly picked one off and began to sip it, ignoring the annoyed looks on the faces of the waiter and Mycroft.

Holmes sat in another chair and I picked one at his side. Holmes was instantly alert as he faced his brother. "Mycroft, it would appear that this little task you're asking me to undertake is far more complicated than you led me to believe."

"In what way?" Mycroft asked with what he evidentially considered a show of innocence. It rang less than true with Holmes.

"Dr. House here has uncovered that these people died of curare poisoning," Holmes said. "And it appears they were all in the same neighborhood at roughly the same time. In short, Mycroft, someone is targeting these people for death and I highly suspect you know who and why."

Mycroft took a long sip of his brandy as he mulled over Holmes' words. He set it down and slowly nodded. "Very well, Sherlock. You understand that what I am about to tell is highly confidential and I expect you and Doctor Watson to keep it most secret."

"You know you can rely on my discretion, Mycroft," Sherlock said in a chiding tone. "And Watson's as well."

"Sure, you can completely rely on the guy who's sole goal is publishing full details on every case Holmes gets," House threw in as he finished the drink.

Mycroft solemnly nodded. "Very well, Sherlock. For some time, my…office has been tracking the moves of some new criminal enterprise. It appears to have migrated from America. They seem to have grown in New York and are now branching out."

"I knew you were going to blame us Yanks. I just knew it," House muttered.

"It appears," Mycroft went on as if he hadn't heard House. "That this enterprise is setting up an operation in south London. I sent one of my men to investigate secretly but he had yet to find anything concrete. Or at least, he hadn't before his death."

"I see you don't possess many details, Mycroft," Holmes noted. "Surely you must have more information than that."

"If I did, Sherlock, I wouldn't have had to come seeking your aid, now would I?" Mycroft pointed out. "No, we do not know what the exact enterprise entails but it seems clear that my agent was in the area at the same time as these other victims."

"How close a neighborhood?" House broke in. "A few blocks, by one building? I'm trying to see how localized an effect this is."

"Again, that is something we are unaware of." Mycroft sounded more annoyed by that than House's questions.

House sniffed. "Well, with such amazing intelligence gathering skills, I can't imagine how you let the Empire fall apart."

All three of us glared at him before Holmes continued. "So someone killed your agent and has apparently been attempting to silence the rest of the people in that area that day."

I was a bit taken aback at that. "You're suggesting that someone is killing these people on the off chance they may have seen something suspicious?"

"This group is rather extreme, Doctor Watson," Mycroft noted. "Extreme enough to kill a hundred innocent people to reach their goals."

"Which you are still in the dark about," Holmes noted. "Surely you have something else to go on, Mycroft."

"If we do, Sherlock, I would tell you." For once, I believed Mycroft was telling the truth. "Sadly, whatever clues my man knew died with him."

A loud snort cut through the lobby. We turned to see House shaking his head in disgust. "Sooner or later, you're all going to have to catch up to the 20th century, you all know that?"

"What do you mean?" Holmes asked, confused.

"I mean that we can still find plenty of clues from the bodies of your man and the others," Holmes said as he rose up, leaning on his cane.

"I've studied the reports your hospital had," Mycroft severely stated. "I can find nothing that can help us."

"See, two things wrong with that. First, they didn't know what to look for. I do. Second, they're not as smart as me, I am." He turned and started to limp toward the doorway. "Fellow I know in America named Grissom told me that just because you're dead doesn't mean you can't talk. We just have to know how to listen. Are you coming or should Watson there start to plan my own series of stories?"

As he limped away, Mycroft and Holmes exchanged a long look. "Now that, Sherlock, is an individual more rude than you are."

"Coming from you, Mycroft, that's high praise." I smiled a bit at the rare show of brotherly bonding the two possessed before Holmes and I rose to follow the good doctor out.