2

The second door also had photos on it. But these weren't as carefully applied; at least they didn't seem to have the same patina as those on the first door. They were happy pictures, though. Mostly. Patients whose lives he'd saved. He didn't remember the names, of course. But there was the little girl with cancer who'd insisted on hugging him, that annoying save-the-world African doctor, the so-called daughter of his friend, Crandall. Down the bottom, there was a tiny image of Stacey, a bitter-sweet reminder of things best left in the past.

The doorknob this time was porcelain. It was painted, blue and white with spots of orange; a Mexican-looking pattern.

Inside, another woman. She was sitting at a desk, typing furiously into a computer. Behind her, on the wall, sketches of various scenes were pasted everywhere, overlapping, a storyboard gone wild. In one image a small child stood near a dinosaur skeleton, in another a beautiful woman sat on the deck of a cabin in the mountains. In yet another, a vampire and a zombie scowled menacingly out from the page.

She looked up from her computer and removed her glasses. "Oh good, you're here," she said, She spoke quickly, and used her hands to gesture to a chair on the other side of the desk. "Take a seat so we can get started. I'm on a deadline and we need to get this sorted out so I can get this chapter posted or they'll be out for my blood."

House didn't normally respond well to efficiency, especially when he had no idea what she was talking about, but he figured it was easier to sit.

She leaned forward and steepled her fingers together, giving him an assessing look. "So you've been to the first door, then."

It wasn't quite a question.

"Yes." House figured it would be a good idea to keep his answers simple until he understood where this was headed.

"And have you worked it out yet?"

"Worked what out?" His anger returned. Mostly, anger at himself. He hated not knowing the answer.

She looked disappointed, but covered it quickly. "Never mind, you'll get there."

"Care to provide a map?"

Her mouth opened but she closed it again, looking thoughtful. "I would, but . . . that would spoil things."

House snorted. "So what, are you going to talk about falling in love, too?"

This time her look was mischievous. "I can do more than talk about it." Her eyebrows raised in a gesture he recognised as one of his own. "Care to take me into the back room and show me your tricks?"

Oh, so this was going to be one of those dreams. House felt a strange combination of relief and disappointment. He understood those dreams. But the fact that that puzzle had seemingly ended without a solution was a letdown.

He shrugged and started to rise from the chair. Sex was sex.

She giggled. "Fantastic!" she said to herself. But then she let out a long, regretful sigh. "Sorry. That's not what this is about. Besides, the others would have my hide." She added a muttered "damn it" under her breath.

He collapsed back in the chair. "So what is it about?"

She gestured to the wall and to the stacks of paper House belatedly noticed piled on the desk.

"Plot!" she announced with a flourish.

"Plot?"

"Story! The meaning of it all."

"Forty two?" House offered.

She rolled her eyes. "House versus God."

He screwed up his eyes – that rang a bell. "Oh, you mean that scoreboard Chase drew up?" They'd been working on that faith healer kid, the one who'd had herpes. Oh yeah, that had been sweet.

She waved her hand impatiently. "That and everything else."

"I don't understand."

"It's plot and story that will take you through the third door and into the fourth."

"Huh?"

"After that it's more difficult to see. From here, anyway."

"Will you just say something that makes sense!" House slammed his fist on the desk, making the piles of paper shift menacingly.

She shook her head and gave him a piercing look. "What did you learn from the first door?"

House took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. She was right, he needed to step through this, to go back to logic, to his usual inductive reasoning. Where had they got to? "Something about falling in love."

She snorted in disdain. "Gee, and I was told to expect you'd be smart."

House tightened his fists, but tried to maintain his focus on logic. "There was something that I had to remember as I went into each door."

She nodded this time, looking satisfied.

"Something about 'falling in love' was what I had to remember – only I don't know what that is," he added in frustration.

"That's okay," she soothed.

"Oh, and I think it might have something to do with Sherlock Holmes."

Her smile widened to a pleased grin. "Now you're on the right track."

He shook his head. He still didn't understand.

"It's time to move to the next door."

"Really?" He turned to look at the pictures on the wall. They felt somehow familiar, but if pressed he couldn't have explained why. He'd have liked more time to look at them all and ask the typist more questions.

"I'm afraid so. I'd like to keep you here, but the others wouldn't be pleased."

"What others?"

"And you'd never get to the last door."

Ah. The last, insubstantial door. "About that—"

She turned her attention back to the computer in front of her. "I have to post!" she muttered, her fingers once again flying across the keyboard.

House shrugged. He clearly wasn't getting any more from her. He rose and went to the door. He took one last longing look at the pictures on the wall before closing it behind him.