Tomorrow Never Dies

Part 1 - Introductions

It was nearly noon, the sun at its peak in the sky and storm clouds threatening to break up the seemingly peaceful day. House leaned against the window frame staring out the window, his townhouse sat on the third busiest street in the city; it overlooked some small businesses and two cafés. He couldn't help but to look down at the many people that walked up and down the street, he observed all the that carried on with their somber lifes. Like standing atop an overpass, hearing the commotion of rubber and road, the honk of horns every one and a while. It was life's music.

"You know..." He started to say.
"If you were to sit in this spot for days on end you couldn't get a better advantage to seeing everything people had to offer."

Turning to his friend Michael, who sat on the opposite side of the room looked up.

"Oh, really?" He said, raising his brows high and letting them quickly fall.

House waved over for his friend to join him at the window. As he reached in his pocket for a cigarette.

"Observe." He said, while drawing the other curtain allowing his companion to view the bustling street below.

"I see..." Michael began slowly. "People with places to go and things to get done. After all it is a Saturday, most people need to get their errands done." His friend stated, now staring at House, who was more focused on the bustling street below.

"True but, you can see everything you might need to know about any person, save what you can't ask directly... Look..." He said pointing down at a man on the street.

The man on the street stopped at one of the cafés down below, he wore a pinned stripped suit, he had a briefcase in his right hand and a small coffee in his left. He appeared to have been looking for someone but didn't move from his standing position.

"His hair is recently cut, and his beard seems regularly trimmed for his age I can see he is no older than, say, 33. His suit is a tailor made, given that it is fitted as you can see, and these are indicators if an above average income. He has ordered a small coffee which might suggest he's meeting a friend there, small coffee order tells me he doesn't like to drink in large amounts but can bare the taste. As I'm sure you've noticed, he is waiting for someone; I'd wager it's his wife or mistress. As you can also observe he might be a lawyer; his briefcase is thin, which is enough for small stacks of paper." He said, smiling briefly; he lit his cigarette and took a deep drag.

"Really? There is no way that you could possibly know so much about this man, whom of which you have never met." His friend replied.

"I meant every word of what I said, in fact-..." House stopped suddenly. He focused his hearing and realized that someone was heading up the stairs.

"We are having a visitor." He said looking directly at his friend, who was in the process of settling into a seat near the second window.
"Please pour him a glass of whiskey." House now pointing to the bookshelf that sat on the left of the fireplace, there an entire shelf was dedicated to drinks for company. House himself never really drank, but always had plenty for guests. His friend quickly poured a two glasses, as Michael shot a look at House who smiled and waved it off; while House headed to the door.

A sharp knock came and House instantly opened the door; with such force it seemed as if the door was just an appendage and he was just flexing his muscles to preform an action. He smile and extended his actual arm out toward the middle of the room where the sitting furniture was concentrated.

"Sorry to bother you, but which one of you would be Jonathan House?" Said the guest who remained still in the doorway.

"I am..." Said House. "To whom do we have the pleasure of this visit?" He added after a short pause. House before his new guest spoke gave him a quick look over. This man before House was of average height, brown rustic hair, brown eyes to match and dressed splendidly in a grey suit made of common material. His face was squared in the jaw and his eyes despite being brown were clouded, he had a moustache that was well groomed sitting on his lip.

"I am Special Agent Flynn, I'm here on behalf of my office to hire you." He said.

"May I see your form of identification?" House answered.

He reached in his inner pocket of his black suit and removed a small leather bound wallet and revealed a badge and his ID card. Handing it to House who gave it a quick look over. He noticed that there were small scratches faintly visible but not bold. Returning his attention to, this now FBI agent, his suit looking down at his dress pants he saw there were small white hairs. Near the end of his right pant leg he also observed there was a small tear and was sewn back into form.

"So...Agent Flynn what kind of house cat do you care for? A white long-haired Persian cat? And your tailer is the one if I'm not mistaken the same one who runs his business on 1st street, right?" He said, staring intently at the Special Agent.

Special Agent Flynn stood momentarily stunned.

"How do you know I own the cat? And how the hell did you know which tailor I visit?" He stated firmly, as if the question and House's prying was an invasion of his privacy.

"Hmm. When you handed me your wallet I first observed the small scratches which was an indication of a small animal. The white hairs are consistent to a feline and I highly doubt that a dog would tear your pant leg and not leave any other marks. Furthermore where your playful cat tore your pant leg and where the repair is done is quite similar to the one my neighbor frequents, that tailor Mr. Lee, if memory serves, is the only tailor to patch the thread in a offset colour grey like that one there. " He replied, pointing to his patchwork.

"Very well, makes sense. I was told you were spectacular in your reasoning, but first hand you truly are amazing." Said with a small twinkle.

House didn't care much for compliments as they were just words.

"So you are here to hire me but I have seen nothing in the morning papers to indicate the The Federal Bureau Of Investigation would need my help with." He said, walking back to the window and leaning back on the window ceil looking down at the street.

"My field office thought it wise to keep the death of a judges son out of the papers and have a tight lid on the matter." The special agent replied.

House looked over to Michael who gave him a perplexed face. House raised his brows and smiled.

"Perhaps you would like a drink?" House's friend asked.

"I'm still on duty, but thank you for the offer." He smiled coyly.

A small silence fell between the two parties. House still stared out the window and his friend sat looking every few seconds at the two gentleman. Agent Flynn just stood, not completely sure if his refusal to drink might have brought the interaction between him and House to an utter hault.
House turned his torso toward Agent Flynn but allowed his head stay away from any kind of eye contact.

"So... House began. What are the particulars of this case?"

Flynn snapped out thoughts.

Well a Judge from downtown, Judge Silverton, was on vacation. He left January 15 and returned January 21, yesterday. His eldest son was tasked to house sit while is father was away. Judge Silverton returned to have found the door cracked open and was immediately alarmed by his discovery. Graham Silverton, the victim, had been shot in the left leg and shot two more times in the chest. Judge Silverton didn't report anything stolen. And reassured my superiors that his son had no enemies. Right now we need as much help as we can get. The local police pointed me in your direction." Flynn finished.

"Hmm. There are some points that grab my attention. Is there anyway I can visit the crime scene?" House asked.

Michael had finished his drink by now and sat, with his eyes glued to the Special Agent; he sighed and looked at House.

"May I write down the address for you, I myself need to report back to my superiors and inform them I have made contact with you." Asked Flynn.

"Certainly." House said showing him where he keep the stationary.

Flynn wrote quickly, and handed the paper to House, who handed it to Michael. House walked quickly to the door turning the handle.

"Well Special Agent Flynn we shall be at your address in half an hour, until then." House said, showing Mr. Flynn out.