Fortunately, Wilson had Google bookmarked, so he didn’t have to type to pull up the browser. “Let’s see,” he mused. “Let’s go with…‘naughty blonde nurses.’” It was fairly tame, but Wilson’s computer wasn’t accustomed to the kind of filthy, filthy smut he usually looked at. He’d have to start off slow so he didn’t give the poor machine a complex. Using the eraser end of the pencil, he typed in the search terms.

The first results page offered him his choice of several sites. He selected the one with the most X’s in the name. A few mouse clicks, Wilson’s credit card number tapped in with the pencil eraser, and he was treated to a video of a blonde with enormous hooters stripping down to her stethoscope.

Only as the woman’s dress slid down her shoulders, he noticed that her flesh had a creepy, plasticky sheen. There was something just…unappetizing…about it. He closed the video and selected another one, this time a dark-haired girl who performed with a small-ish boa constrictor.

Before she’d even gotten her top off, he found himself wondering what the boa constrictor thought of the whole thing and, just as a side thought, what the snake might taste like.

Maybe this just wasn’t a pornography kind of day.

#

When rounds wrapped up, Wilson returned to his office with some trepidation. There was just no telling what kind of trouble House had managed to get up to. The best it was reasonable to hope for was that he’d kept busy looking at porn.

So he was somewhat relieved when he opened the door and saw House sitting in front of the computer monitor, and expression of intense concentration on his furry face. He’d have to remember to clear the history and empty the cache as soon as House was finished. “Hi,” Wilson said.

House grunted, not looking away from the screen.

Wilson knew perfectly well that he didn’t want to know what House was looking at, but he just couldn’t stop himself from circling around the desk and looking at the screen, which displayed a full-screen, hi-res shot of….

A sandwich. Turkey club, from the look of it. “What are you looking at?”

“Sandwich gallery.” House clicked the mouse, and the turkey club was replaced by something open-faced on a croissant.

Wilson looked around the room. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. “Have you been looking at pictures of sandwiches the whole time I was gone?”

“Uh-huh. Look at this one.” House went back to the menu page and selected a grilled ham and cheese, pictured next to a bowl of tomato soup.

“Yeah, she’s really hot.”

“Yeah,” House agreed, confirming Wilson’s suspicion that House rarely paid much attention to anything he said. With a sigh, he closed the browser. “Let’s go get some lunch.”

Unsurprisingly, House requested a Reuben. Wilson bought him the sandwich, but felt slightly dirty doing it. For his own lunch, he scrutinized the choices, looking for the least sandwich-like thing available. Finally he settled on the baked ziti. When the cafeteria lady asked if he wanted garlic toast, he declined with a slight shudder.

“Where’s Doctor House?” the cashier asked, looking around him. “Sometimes he steals things while you’re paying.”

“He’s not here today.”

“Oh?” she asked, ringing up House’s Reuben.

“I’m taking him some food later on. He’s home sick,” Wilson elaborated, handing over his money.

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer person. Have a nice day, Doctor Wilson.”

“You too.” He went back up to the office. This time, House was standing on the desk top, near Wilson’s coffee cup. There was something a little bit strange about his posture--

“Are you pissing in my mug?” Wilson squawked.

“Uh huh,” House said unconcernedly, pulling his little jeans back up. “Let’s eat lunch on the balcony. We can have a little picnic.”

“You whizzed in in my cup,” he repeated.

“I know.” House imitated his tone.

“You’re buying me a new mug.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You peed in mine! I can’t use it after you peed in it!”

“I don’t see why not.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“Urine is sterile. And cups are washable.” House shrugged. “But don’t wash it right away. I want to take it to the lab.”

“Of course you do,” Wilson muttered. Juggling the two lunch boxes into one hand and balancing their cans of soda on top of them, he picked up House and stuffed him under his arm.

“Hey!” House yelped.

“You want to go out onto the balcony, don’t you? I’m not making two trips.”

“Well, okay.”

“If you don’t behave, I’m dropping you over the railing.”

#

Chase had finished the crossword and was trying to solve the Jumble when Cameron came over to stand in front of him, propping one hip against the edge of the table. “Let’s go down to the lab.”

Chase glanced up at her. “What for?” He actually had a pretty good idea, but he was starting to get just a little bit tired of no-strings-attached sex. Especially at work. Cameron seemed to consider herself unfireable, for some reason, but he had no such illusions.

“I’m sure we can think of something,” Cameron said significantly.

“What if House calls?”

“He knows our pager numbers.” Cameron inched further onto the table, her skirt sliding further up her thighs.

“Well, okay,” Chase decided. “Maybe we can find something to do after all.”

#

“Let’s go back to the lab,” House told Wilson when they were finished with lunch and Wilson started making let’s get back to work-type noises. “That urine isn’t going to analyze itself.”

Wilson looked at his watch. “Can’t. I have a patient going into surgery in an hour, and I promised I’d see her in pre-op.”

“Skip it. You’re not a surgeon; there’s no reason you have to be there.”

“It’s Kendra,” Wilson answered tersely.

Well. When it came to kids, Wilson’s spaghetti-like spine became slightly al dente. “Let Dr. No-Pants go instead,” he suggested.

Wilson glanced at him. “That’s a good idea. I’ll take him along.”

“You could have one of your flunkies take him.”

“I don’t have flunkies,” Wilson reminded him. “I have colleagues.”

“Same difference.”

“You could have your flunkies analyze your urine,” Wilson suggested, demonstrating that he just didn’t get it.

“They don’t know about my little problem,” House reminded him. “And they’re not going to.”

#

When they ducked into the lab--Cameron going backwards because she was kissing him--Chase noticed that the lab wasn’t exactly as they’d left it. The microscope was out and uncovered, and there were slides and sample containers scattered on the bench top. “Somebody’s been using our lab,” he said.

Cameron detached from him and looked around. “That’s weird. Nobody else has a key to this lab except for us and Foreman.”

“And House,” Chase pointed out.

“He’s at home.” Cameron started straightening up the bench, arranging the sample containers in a row and stacking the stray slides. “What is this stuff, anyway? There’s some kind of fibers in this one.” She held one of the sample containers out for him to look at.

“Looks like a cotton ball, or stuffing out of a pillow.”

“Yeah. This slide has some kind of hairs on it--maybe animal hair.” Cameron put the slide on the microscope and looked in the eyepiece. “Only it’s not--it’s artificial fiber--probably from a stuffed animal.” She motioned for him to come look.

Chase looked. “Yup, that’s polyester all right.”

Cameron stepped back to the microscope, edging him aside. “I want to see it under more magnification. Maybe there’s some kind of contaminant on it.”

“Why would there be?”

“Why would there be stuffed-animal samples in our lab if there wasn’t something strange about them?” Cameron argued. She looked at them again. “See if you see anything.”

“What do you think’s going on?” Chase asked before he looked.

“I don’t know.”

“But you have a theory,” he countered.

“You said it yourself--House is the only person who has access to this lab and is unaccounted for. Maybe…maybe he’s working on a case.”

“And he’s not telling us about it?” Chase asked skeptically. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Cameron said, all thoughts of sex clearly gone from her mind. “But I’m going to find out.”

On to chapter 11!