A Case of House and Holmes

By Michael Weyer

My apologies for the long delay and the thanks of all those who have commented on this story and eagerly awaited more. Hope this makes it worthwhile.

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From the look on her face upon our return, Dr. Cuddy was not happy about the current situation. From what I could gather, the woman undoubtedly had a difficult time putting up with House's behavior and tasks and House himself did little to alleviate her concerns.

"Where have you been?" she demanded as we came back to the hospital. "The board is getting upset about these deaths. I don't know how much longer I can put them off from opening us to a full examination."

"We're doctors, we're supposed to be open to examinations," House said as he limped down the hallway.

"Not like this!" Cuddy snapped as she followed him. "House, we are guests in this country, in case you've forgotten."

"How can I? The service they give us is atrocious," House remarked as he limped along.

Cuddy rubbed at her forehead. "Listen, we got a patient that just came in."

"And that's my concern, why?"

"She's a young woman."

"Okay, getting a bit more of my attention now."

Cuddy took a breath. "She came in complaining of some chest pains and Foreman and Chase believe she may be suffering from the same thing that killed the others."

Holmes and I were instantly alert but House appeared less impressed. "Foreman and Chase also believe in Father Christmas, so I'm not exactly sure about their opinions."

Cuddy glared at him. "House…"

"Oh, all right," he said in annoyance as he limped to the room the woman was pointing to. "Remind me again why I work here?"

"Because no other sane hospital would take you!" Cuddy yelled.

"Love you too, darling," he called back over his shoulder.

We entered a small waiting room where Foreman and Chase were standing by a bed. Lying on it was a woman of about eighteen years with curly brown hair. She was clad in a loose nightgown, coughing into her hand, her thin form shaking on the bed. She managed a weak smile as House came in. "'Ello," she said in a working class accent.

"What is it with you people unable to pronounce the letter 'h' right?" House asked Holmes and I before turning back to the girl. "So, what's your name?"

"Mary Foster," she said. "Sorry, I just woke up this morning with a bad cough and…a heaviness in me chest."

"Poetic," House intoned. "Well, what were you doing last night?"

"Oh, just…out," she said, looking away.

I will be the first to admit I lack Holmes' perception and ability to figure out a person's entire life within moments of meeting them. However, I have been in enough clinics in my time as a doctor and enough places of ill repute aiding Holmes to recognize a streetwalker when I see one. I could tell House did as well but did not seem concerned about it.

"Listen, darling," he began. "I don't really care about your late night activities. Hell, I often hire a few of your ilk when the scratch hits me. All I need to know is whether you were by a certain warehouse the other day."

The woman frowned. "Warehouse? Um, yes, I was. I was heading to market before I went to work. I was passing by that warehouse when someone dropped a crate, burst it open. There was a lot of dust, covered so many people on the street and there was an argument."

"Argument?" Holmes interjected. "Between whom?"

"Um, the driver of the cart and someone, looked to be his boss. Big man, dark hair, in a suit," Mary replied. Holmes mentally noted as she continued. "He was yelling, he seemed pretty frantic. I couldn't understand it. It just looked like a bunch of silly flowers to me but he had them scooped up quickly."

Holmes took that in while House was more interested in a piece of paper Chase had handed him containing notes on the woman's examination. "Any dizziness? Light-headed? Shortness of breath?"

The woman nodded. "Yes, actually. Do you think…"

"I do indeed," House nodded. "Foreman, tell the surgery teams we'll be ready in an hour and try to keep it clean."

All of us stared at him in surprise. "Wait…" Foreman said. "You mean…we're performing surgery on her?"

"No, I kinda thought it's time we instituted surgery drills around here," House sarcastically said. "Yes, you moron! We're going to cut her open and poke around."

"You're what?" Mary screeched, obviously agitated.

"Don't worry, we're professionals," House said. "I promise we'll have you back mostly intact before we sew you up."

The woman seemed ready to leap out of the bed and run as Chase shook his head. "Dr. Cuddy has to okay any surgeries, House."

"Oh, fine, fine." The man turned to limp out of the room. "I'll talk to her. But I don't see how much of a problem this will be."

Foreman scratched his head. "I don't understand. Why do a surgery?"

"Well, partly to meet our quota for the week," House dryly stated. "But if you want to know more…" He suddenly turned and began to march away. We all quickly followed as he moved faster than I would have expected from a man with such a severe limp.

We soon entered that meeting room he had for his fellow doctors. House was moving to a chalkboard that had a list of words I quickly recognized as the symptoms they had determined the victims had died of. Cameron and Wilson were both startled by our arrival as House limped the blackboard.

His cane smacked against each entry in turn. "So, kids, are we seeing a pattern here?"

"Shortness of breath…dizziness…heaviness in the chest…" Chase began.

"Coughing, possible salvia and mucus build-up," Foreman continued. "The same symptoms Mary is suffering from."

"And she was in the area," Holmes intoned.

"So, what does that tell us?" House did not give anyone a chance to answer before going on. "It tells us that she may well be in the same boat as our past victims. However, we have a chance to commandeer that vessel, hijack the death barge and sail her into less harsh waters."

He rose back to his feet. "I'll get Cuddy to give the okay. Chase and Foreman, check on the patient, Wilson stays here to go over data and Cameron, get me a copy of Moby Dick. I need more nautical metaphors."

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"Are you out of your damn mind?!"

I highly suspected this was not the first time Cuddy had ever asked that question to House. The man appeared blasé as he sat in the office, tapping his cane on the floor. Holmes and I stood a bit behind him, watching as Cuddy railed at the man.

"House, the last time I let you do a surgery, you ordered the man's liver cut out!"

"And found out the source of the infection that was killing him in the process," House calmly intoned. "I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think it was necessary." He paused and shrugged. "Actually, if I thought it was imperative, I'd just go ahead and do it but I like giving you the illusion of control now and then."

Cuddy rubbed her forehead. "House, I am trying to keep this place together and you're just making it harder. The board is on my neck and now this could expose the hospital to more danger. It could expose me to danger!"

"Now, Cuddy," House said in a calm tone. "You know I would never expose you. At least not in public and without trying a few drinks on you first."

Cuddy seemed ready to snap again but Holmes stepped into the argument. "Madam, I can understand your hesitation but we must explore all options available in order to discover the truth behind these deaths. It may be the only way to prevent further ones."

Cuddy sat behind her desk, adjusting her dress and I felt the compulsion to automatically look away from her bountiful cleavage. "House…"

"Cuddy…" he said in the same tone. "I know you may mock me but isn't saving lives kinda what the rest of you are here for? Me, I'm just hanging out but…"

"Fine, fine!" Cuddy said, waving her hands. "But be careful."

"I am ever the soul of discretion, Cuddy."

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While I am a veteran doctor, it has been a while since I scrubbed in on a surgery. Modesty forces me to admit that my surgical skills were adequate, not truly phenomenal and I have been happier with my small practice. Yet, my experience was enough for Holmes to insist I be in the surgical room to observe the proceedings.

It is not that Holmes is squeamish at all or that he is not knowledgeable of surgeries. But Holmes' talents are more for the mind and spirit than the body and thus he felt it better for me to relay the findings to him.

Interestingly, House himself did not attend the operation but simply observed it from another room. I am certain he and Holmes had quite a few comments to make to one another but despite my constant asking, Holmes has refused to give me details of their conversation. Indeed, at one point, he openly stated that he did not want to subject the printed page to such "utterly needless tripe."

I watched as Foreman led the surgery, impressed at the man's skill. I could tell that America was developing some unique new techniques that I do hope carry over to this country as well. I watched as he opened the young woman's chest up to examine it.

The sight of it threw me. The mucus build-up in her lungs was far greater than a normal person should have. It looked as if someone had poured it right into her chest and the build-up was thick in some places. The rest of the surgical team was just as surprised at it. Foreman placed his scalpel inside and pulled it out, a long trail following it.

"What in hell…" he muttered.

I leaned in to observe it, seeing the white dots throughout the mucus. "Is this what I think it is?"

Foreman took a deep breath. "We need to talk to House."

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I entered the conference room before the others to see Holmes and House already conferring around the microscope. Apparently, they were going over a sample Foreman had sent to them while they cleared the mucus out and sewed Mary up.

Holmes looked up to me. "What is her status?"

"Too early to tell," I answered as I took back my regular coat. "We cleaned out the mucus in her chest so that clears up the blocking. But there are a few factors of her case we are not sure of yet."

"Yeah, that does get annoying," House said. "Be great if they could put out an easy to use guide on what each disease is. Ah, well, can't expect to lose all the fun in life."

Holmes turned to fix him with a cool look. "I do not find any 'fun' in people dying, sir."

"Course you do!" House said as he sat back in his chair. "Come on, what good is it to just solve any old mundane murder or two? If you wanted that, you'd have joined the police force. Nope, you like the challenge or a strange crime, you love seeing a death that doesn't make any sense, you live to prove what no one else can!" He waved a cane around. "It's why you're here, after all. So, just admit you get some happiness out of this and we can move on!"

Holmes glared at him. "Sir," he snapped. "I will not be talked to in such a manner by a morphine addict."

House showed no surprise at Holmes' conclusion. "Well, it's a bit healthier than being saddled with cocaine."

It was quite striking to see Holmes be the one thrown by someone figuring out his secrets. "The scratching of the arms is a giveaway," House explained. "Now, I could bring up some thing about glass houses but right now, I've got a possible epidemic to put an end to so how about we leave that to the side, ok?"

He turned to the microscope and leaned in. "Hmm…well, it looks like the curare bits are integrated into the mucus."

Holmes and I both frowned at hearing that. "Odd," Holmes remarked. "Normally, it would have integrated into the bloodstream. Finding it in the lungs in such great numbers does not…" He stopped, his eyes widening in a way I knew quite well. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" House demanded, sitting up.

"Unless it wasn't entered into the body via injection," Holmes remarked. "Unless it was breathed in."

The implications hit us at once. "The pollen," I muttered. "The curare was in the pollen…"

"Which means," Holmes gravely stated. "That this was not a case of these smugglers or whoever deliberately poisoning these people. It was released by the pollen into their lungs."

"But…" I began. "That means that contact with these poppies could be fatal to anyone. Why would anyone develop something like that? And how?"

"Excellent questions," Holmes intoned. "But all I can tell for certain is that if those flowers are too widely distributed, the death toll may be quite costly."

House let out a loud groan as he rose back to his feet. "Wonderful. It's now up to me to help prevent an outbreak in this city and will that make you appreciate us Americans more? I doubt it." He started to limp toward the door. "Well, you two talk amongst yourselves. I need to go give Cuddy another reason to curse the day my parents met, a practice I myself am well acquainted with."

As he limped away, I shared a grim look with Holmes. We knew this situation was even more dangerous than we had anticipated and this gang could bring mass death to London. Yet, it still seemed a bit more tolerable than dealing with House much longer.