In Sickness and Sonnets - A House MD & Dead Poets Society Fanfiction

His Lordship's Curse

Wilson bursts into his office, the gust from the door sending the pages on his desk floating about the room. No time for that now. He grabs his pager and runs to Neil's room, his mind racing through the causes of the respiratory distress. Panting, Wilson reaches his room, sliding the door open to see Anderson in a chair next to the bed, wearing his usual worried expression. Despite everything, Neil is smiling at him, deep brown eyes warm and understanding.

He's stable.

"Dr. Perry." Wilson calls as he walks towards the bed. "My boss is calling in our best. We're going to get to the bottom of this." Wilson reassures, looking to Anderson and nodding. As if on cue, Wilson spots House limping his way to the department office out of the corner of his eye. "There he is. I'll be back later, okay?" Wilson leaves the two of them alone, Anderson reaching an arm over and brushing Neil's hair out of his face.

"House!" Wilson starts as he pushes open the office door, stopping when House points his cane accusatorily at him.

"Patient goes into acute respiratory distress not even an hour after I left. What'd you slip him?" Wilson's expression morphs into one of incredulity.

"If you seriously think I gave him something to make him worse, you're more insane than any of us imagined. I'm not you, House." Wilson smoothly states as he approaches House at his desk. House rests his cane back onto the floor.

"The team'll be here soon. This is coming out of your pay." He remarks, half-joking. "For now, DDX for the flu followed by respiratory distress." This causes Wilson to raise an eyebrow.

"Did you read any of the file? He's 27, otherwise healthy. No family history of cancer, heart disease, nothing. This isn't the flu." House rolls his eyes, flipping through the chart again, still skimming just as before.

"That's funny." House starts, placing a finger on a line in the file. "It says here one... Jmez... Wilsor? Diagnosed him with the flu. Now, either your handwriting is terrible, or there's a doppelganger in the hospital that's out to get you." He finishes, throwing the file back onto his desk. Earning an exhausted sigh from the younger doctor, his fingers finding his temples, steadying himself as they rub smooth, circular motions into them. Oh boy.

"The Stooges have arrived." House states blankly, getting up from his desk and moving into the larger room, Wilson following behind him. "DDX for dyspnoea, generalised weakness and fatigue, persistent cough, and a mild fever." He instructs, motioning for Wilson to drag the whiteboard in.

"Uhh, is this a trick question?" Foreman asks wryly, "It's flu season. These are textbook flu symptoms." House then flings the file at them, having expected this answer. Chase glances at Wilson dragging the whiteboard in.

"Why's Wilson here?"

"If you'd read the file I've kindly provided instead of asking inane questions, you'd know." House snipes, turning to the whiteboard as Wilson takes a seat. "Did I not mention the fact that he's an otherwise healthy 27 year old who went into respiratory distress because of this supposed 'flu'? Must've slipped my mind." Sarcasm exuding from House's every word as he writes the symptoms on the board.

"It says you pushed corticosteroids? If this is bacterial pneumonia, that could easily-" Cameron begins to question Wilson, House cutting over her,

"I'm sure Wilson considered that over the possibility of the patient choking to death." He looks again to the board. "Bacterial pneumonia fits. Run a sputum culture and chest C.T. to confirm. Start him on Gentamicin for the pneumonia and take him off the steroids to avoid secondary infection." He commands, turning around to look at them, noticing none of them carrying out his orders. "Did I say all of that in my head?" Cameron stands up and points to elevated heart rate on the board.