The Great Meet of Great Minds Ch.5
Jun. 2nd, 2012 11:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jdmcoolTitle: The Great Meet of Great Minds, Ch.5
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,113
Summary: Finally indulging Sherlock's wants, House runs the DNA test, although the results aren't what either expected.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, unfortunately. Set after The Reichenbach Fall (Sherlock) and Love Is Blind (House).
Sitting at one end of the table, House stared at the man across from him with a smug grin. Not that it could really be helped given the fact that he finally felt like he was winning this little game they had going on. Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned forward, thrilled when Sherlock simply cocked his head and smiled back at him.
“Are you two just going to bask in each other’s beauty or can we get back to the person dying?” chase questioned.
Which House figured was a bit fair since he’d been staring at the other man since he walked in about five minutes ago, the rest of the team far too confused and nervous to ask anything. Leaning back in his chair, he nodded in agreement.
“Don’t worry about him, Sherlock. He’s just pissy he’s not the handsomest guy with a cool accent anymore.”
“It’s the tone of my voice more than the accent. Deeper, sultry, an eargasm, I believe would be the best term,” Sherlock said, still basking in House’s presence.
Chuckling at the comment and Chase’s little eye roll, House looked at the blonde with the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. “Don’t worry. I’d still bone you first, even if Adams and Park think your chopped liver.”
“Could you leave me out of this?” Adams asked, annoyed, but pointedly not denying it.
Not that House didn’t expect as much. Sherlock had all the qualities that drew people to Chase, except instead of being a doctor; he was a man who put away criminals, giving him that James Bond sort of edge. Well, maybe not James Bond, but something like that. But despite all that, Chase was still right and they still had a patient to be moderately worried about.
“So, what did you find at the patient’s home team?” House questioned.
“Nothing important. They’re healthy eaters, highly organized. No signs of bacteria or anything like that, so it’s clearly not environmental,” Adams explained with a frown.
“And you think she’s right?” He asked Taub, who rolled his eyes.
“Yes. I was there. There wasn’t anything strange.”
“Interesting,” he said as he nodded to himself. Putting on the deerstalker he’d had resting in his lap, he pointed his cane at Sherlock with a grin. “What did you find detective?”
“Clearly nothing as interesting as that damn photo.”
“What? Dude, deerstalkers are awesome. My favorite detective wears them all the time,” House bragged.
Letting the matter go, Sherlock leaned back in his chair. “They’ve been together awhile, but he loves her more than she loves him.”
“And you know that how?” Adams questioned.
“While you two were searching downstairs, I inspected their bedroom. On his nightstand is a picture of them before they married. It’s near his alarm clock and lamp, making it the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first he sees when he wakes up.”
“And that means he loves her more than she loves him?”
“No. It means he likes to think of the past he had with her because he’s probably caught onto the fact that she’s distant toward him or than she’s having an affair,” Sherlock explained.
House nodded as he gently tapped his cane against the table. “So what does that tell us, kids?”
“She could’ve given him an STD,” Park offered.
Adams shook her head. “Nothing he said makes the idea that she’s having an affair a fact.”
Sherlock sighed angrily. “If you look at her, even by his bedside, she can’t help but toy with the ring as though it’s uncomfortable to wear and it’s not just a nervous tick because she does that regardless of what you say. That and her nervous habit is pressing her lips together. Something I picked up on after spending a fraction of the time you have around her.”
“Oh! You just got slammed,” House remarked childishly.
Adams glared at him and then at Sherlock. Chase was about to be her favorite foreigner again, that much was very clear, though with the way the rest were looking at each other, they obviously didn’t know whether or not to be impressed with Sherlock. Not like House, who pointedly kept his gaze off the other man because of how impressed he was. The last thing he needed was the other to notice any sense of amusement.
“Anything else?” House asked him.
“The diet was her idea and he only pretends to go along with it, if the stain on one of his dirty shirt is anything to go by.”
“Anything about their place?”
“Not that I noticed but within the past year he has been out of the country, once on vacation to a beach in what appeared to be the pacific and four other times for business. He only recently got back from somewhere in western Europe judging by his watch, which he changes according to his suit.”
“Wow. Too bad you weren’t the doctor. I could have you and make you my Watson.”
Tensing, Sherlock nodded as he rose to his feet. “You want to talk. I’ll be in your office.”
With that, he walked out of the room leaving House with his team.
“So are we going to talk about what that was?” Park questioned shyly.
Shaking his head, House listened to their ideas given the information Sherlock had offered up. Something that wasn’t all that easy to get away with given the way the guy sat at his desk, bouncing his ball against the wall just like he tended to.
Blinking quickly, House got up and went to question the patient and his wife, his team trailing after him. She confessed after a bit of badgering and the look on his face indicated that Sherlock had been right about the guy being suspicious about the entire thing in the first place. All in all, it was a good day, well, it would be as soon as they had the test results they wanted back. Which left House with nothing else to do but go back to his office.
Walking in, he stopped and tried not to think of himself when he saw Sherlock casually leaning back in the chair, tossing the ball in the air casually, clearly bored. It was all just a game and he knew, deep down, even Sherlock had to have known that.
Sitting on the opposite side of the desk instead of making the other get out of his chair, House stared at him.
“So, you looked into me?” Sherlock questioned, never once taking his attention of the ball.
“I felt I should since you left your blood in my place.”
Sherlock smiled at that. Glancing over at him, he shrugged. “I figured you’d ignore the cup.”
“You really are dead.”
“Allegedly. Very nice tombstone though.”
“You took a nose dive off a building and survived. How?” House asked.
Of course, instead of answering, Sherlock merely caught the ball one last time before putting it down. “You tested my DNA. Finally beginning to believe me?”
“Not at all since I’m pretty sure you don’t believe you either.”
And just like he had expected, Sherlock nodded. “Not particularly, no. You’re the last of three potential men who my mother may have had an affair with.”
“And I’m last because, what? Going in alphabetical order?”
“No. I didn’t need to be in the States until recently. Kind of doing a bit of work here too,” Sherlock admitted with a small shrug.
Nodding, House figured that was a good enough reason since he couldn’t help but inspect the way the other man thought, regardless of how things seemed they might play out. “So let’s say I’m not your dad, what then?”
“I met the great Doctor House,” Sherlock said as though that was just as good.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Chuckling, the man shook his head. “If I was wrong about you, I’ll let it go. I still have a family that loves me, even if the rest of the world thinks I’m mad and that’s good enough.”
“Mature. Seems like crap,” House said, knowing for a fact that he had wasted more time than he would like to admit dwelling on his own father. Whoever the man might have been, now that the man he had expected to be his dad was just another man boning his mom.
“Do you have the results?”
“Did you really hire someone to be your archenemy so you could play the hero to a bunch of murders you planned?”
Because there was no way to subtly ask that. Well, House was certain that Wilson would’ve thought of one, but House didn’t much care for subtle anyways. He cared about answers and any man who could fake jumping off a building seemed like the type of person who just might do that.
But the way Sherlock tensed at the question, eyes immediately looking away, told House that the man wasn’t that insane. It was clear that he felt bothered by the entire thing, although House was feeling less sure about questioning him about it.
“There was no Richard Brook. He was always Jim Moriarty and he was a very dangerous and psychotic man.”
“Who shot himself.”
“Yes. Test results?”
House leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.“Wilson’s doing it for me.”
“So I guess we wait for him then,” Sherlock said drummed his fingers along House’s desk.
Of course neither of them expected to be waiting as long as they did. Hell, the day was nearly over before Wilson finally made his appearance, stopping in the doorway with a confused frown as House and Sherlock watched one of House’s shows as though it was the most enthralling thing ever. Well, to House it was since he kind of liked the predictable arcs and the overacting.
Sitting up a little, straighter, he shook his head at his friend. “I’m just going to assume that from your lateness that he’s not mine.”
“What?” Sherlock questioned.
Patting his shoulder before standing up, House smirked proudly. “James here would’ve told me sooner if you were mine.”
“Or, I could have a job with patients who need to see their doctor,” Wilson said sarcastically.
“Don’t worry, Wilson. We already accepted that I’m not his daddy dearest. We’re good.”
Sherlock nodded in agreement as he put his jacket and scarf back on. “Just tell us the news and I suppose I’ll be going.”
“It’s nice that you two agree on this, but you’re both wrong. House… You have a kid.”
Which was not what House was expecting in the slightest. Looking Sherlock over, he frowned before sitting on the edge of his desk. Sherlock simply stood there with his hand on his scarf, the shocked look in his eyes almost matching the one on House’s face, though apparently there was a reason for that now.
“Oh come on. This can’t be that bad, can it?” Wilson asked, trying to coax something out of one of them.
“Your friend has an adult son who he never knew about and who’s life he played no part in. Which would be fine if I wasn’t so much like him,” Sherlock explained quietly.
“No one is that much like, House. Yeah, you’re both jerks, but…a lot of people are.”
House shook his head in disagreement. “He’s wearing nicotine patches. About three that I’ve noticed. Add up that with the personality and addiction to mysteries, you kind of have the Diet version of me.”
Giving in, Wilson nodded as he held up his hands. “Alright. But, Sherlock, this is what you wanted. How are you not happy?”
“Right,” House said. “He should be thrilled that his mom cheated on a man he actually considers a father. Pretty sure there already people he already has a family he relates to in some way. This… This is just finding out he’s less connected to them than he actually expected.”
With that, Sherlock nodded quietly before slipping out of the room. Wilson stood there, unsure of whether or not he should do something as House merely gathered up his things and headed out as well.
“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Wilson questioned.
“Why?”
“He’s your son.”
“Yeah,” House agreed before walking in the other direction.
Out the corner of his eye, he could see Wilson rub at his face tiredly as he tried to pick which one of them to chase after. And House couldn’t actually bring himself to care either way since he was having enough trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that he had a son. A dead son, but a son nevertheless.
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,113
Summary: Finally indulging Sherlock's wants, House runs the DNA test, although the results aren't what either expected.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, unfortunately. Set after The Reichenbach Fall (Sherlock) and Love Is Blind (House).
Sitting at one end of the table, House stared at the man across from him with a smug grin. Not that it could really be helped given the fact that he finally felt like he was winning this little game they had going on. Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned forward, thrilled when Sherlock simply cocked his head and smiled back at him.
“Are you two just going to bask in each other’s beauty or can we get back to the person dying?” chase questioned.
Which House figured was a bit fair since he’d been staring at the other man since he walked in about five minutes ago, the rest of the team far too confused and nervous to ask anything. Leaning back in his chair, he nodded in agreement.
“Don’t worry about him, Sherlock. He’s just pissy he’s not the handsomest guy with a cool accent anymore.”
“It’s the tone of my voice more than the accent. Deeper, sultry, an eargasm, I believe would be the best term,” Sherlock said, still basking in House’s presence.
Chuckling at the comment and Chase’s little eye roll, House looked at the blonde with the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. “Don’t worry. I’d still bone you first, even if Adams and Park think your chopped liver.”
“Could you leave me out of this?” Adams asked, annoyed, but pointedly not denying it.
Not that House didn’t expect as much. Sherlock had all the qualities that drew people to Chase, except instead of being a doctor; he was a man who put away criminals, giving him that James Bond sort of edge. Well, maybe not James Bond, but something like that. But despite all that, Chase was still right and they still had a patient to be moderately worried about.
“So, what did you find at the patient’s home team?” House questioned.
“Nothing important. They’re healthy eaters, highly organized. No signs of bacteria or anything like that, so it’s clearly not environmental,” Adams explained with a frown.
“And you think she’s right?” He asked Taub, who rolled his eyes.
“Yes. I was there. There wasn’t anything strange.”
“Interesting,” he said as he nodded to himself. Putting on the deerstalker he’d had resting in his lap, he pointed his cane at Sherlock with a grin. “What did you find detective?”
“Clearly nothing as interesting as that damn photo.”
“What? Dude, deerstalkers are awesome. My favorite detective wears them all the time,” House bragged.
Letting the matter go, Sherlock leaned back in his chair. “They’ve been together awhile, but he loves her more than she loves him.”
“And you know that how?” Adams questioned.
“While you two were searching downstairs, I inspected their bedroom. On his nightstand is a picture of them before they married. It’s near his alarm clock and lamp, making it the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first he sees when he wakes up.”
“And that means he loves her more than she loves him?”
“No. It means he likes to think of the past he had with her because he’s probably caught onto the fact that she’s distant toward him or than she’s having an affair,” Sherlock explained.
House nodded as he gently tapped his cane against the table. “So what does that tell us, kids?”
“She could’ve given him an STD,” Park offered.
Adams shook her head. “Nothing he said makes the idea that she’s having an affair a fact.”
Sherlock sighed angrily. “If you look at her, even by his bedside, she can’t help but toy with the ring as though it’s uncomfortable to wear and it’s not just a nervous tick because she does that regardless of what you say. That and her nervous habit is pressing her lips together. Something I picked up on after spending a fraction of the time you have around her.”
“Oh! You just got slammed,” House remarked childishly.
Adams glared at him and then at Sherlock. Chase was about to be her favorite foreigner again, that much was very clear, though with the way the rest were looking at each other, they obviously didn’t know whether or not to be impressed with Sherlock. Not like House, who pointedly kept his gaze off the other man because of how impressed he was. The last thing he needed was the other to notice any sense of amusement.
“Anything else?” House asked him.
“The diet was her idea and he only pretends to go along with it, if the stain on one of his dirty shirt is anything to go by.”
“Anything about their place?”
“Not that I noticed but within the past year he has been out of the country, once on vacation to a beach in what appeared to be the pacific and four other times for business. He only recently got back from somewhere in western Europe judging by his watch, which he changes according to his suit.”
“Wow. Too bad you weren’t the doctor. I could have you and make you my Watson.”
Tensing, Sherlock nodded as he rose to his feet. “You want to talk. I’ll be in your office.”
With that, he walked out of the room leaving House with his team.
“So are we going to talk about what that was?” Park questioned shyly.
Shaking his head, House listened to their ideas given the information Sherlock had offered up. Something that wasn’t all that easy to get away with given the way the guy sat at his desk, bouncing his ball against the wall just like he tended to.
Blinking quickly, House got up and went to question the patient and his wife, his team trailing after him. She confessed after a bit of badgering and the look on his face indicated that Sherlock had been right about the guy being suspicious about the entire thing in the first place. All in all, it was a good day, well, it would be as soon as they had the test results they wanted back. Which left House with nothing else to do but go back to his office.
Walking in, he stopped and tried not to think of himself when he saw Sherlock casually leaning back in the chair, tossing the ball in the air casually, clearly bored. It was all just a game and he knew, deep down, even Sherlock had to have known that.
Sitting on the opposite side of the desk instead of making the other get out of his chair, House stared at him.
“So, you looked into me?” Sherlock questioned, never once taking his attention of the ball.
“I felt I should since you left your blood in my place.”
Sherlock smiled at that. Glancing over at him, he shrugged. “I figured you’d ignore the cup.”
“You really are dead.”
“Allegedly. Very nice tombstone though.”
“You took a nose dive off a building and survived. How?” House asked.
Of course, instead of answering, Sherlock merely caught the ball one last time before putting it down. “You tested my DNA. Finally beginning to believe me?”
“Not at all since I’m pretty sure you don’t believe you either.”
And just like he had expected, Sherlock nodded. “Not particularly, no. You’re the last of three potential men who my mother may have had an affair with.”
“And I’m last because, what? Going in alphabetical order?”
“No. I didn’t need to be in the States until recently. Kind of doing a bit of work here too,” Sherlock admitted with a small shrug.
Nodding, House figured that was a good enough reason since he couldn’t help but inspect the way the other man thought, regardless of how things seemed they might play out. “So let’s say I’m not your dad, what then?”
“I met the great Doctor House,” Sherlock said as though that was just as good.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Chuckling, the man shook his head. “If I was wrong about you, I’ll let it go. I still have a family that loves me, even if the rest of the world thinks I’m mad and that’s good enough.”
“Mature. Seems like crap,” House said, knowing for a fact that he had wasted more time than he would like to admit dwelling on his own father. Whoever the man might have been, now that the man he had expected to be his dad was just another man boning his mom.
“Do you have the results?”
“Did you really hire someone to be your archenemy so you could play the hero to a bunch of murders you planned?”
Because there was no way to subtly ask that. Well, House was certain that Wilson would’ve thought of one, but House didn’t much care for subtle anyways. He cared about answers and any man who could fake jumping off a building seemed like the type of person who just might do that.
But the way Sherlock tensed at the question, eyes immediately looking away, told House that the man wasn’t that insane. It was clear that he felt bothered by the entire thing, although House was feeling less sure about questioning him about it.
“There was no Richard Brook. He was always Jim Moriarty and he was a very dangerous and psychotic man.”
“Who shot himself.”
“Yes. Test results?”
House leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.“Wilson’s doing it for me.”
“So I guess we wait for him then,” Sherlock said drummed his fingers along House’s desk.
Of course neither of them expected to be waiting as long as they did. Hell, the day was nearly over before Wilson finally made his appearance, stopping in the doorway with a confused frown as House and Sherlock watched one of House’s shows as though it was the most enthralling thing ever. Well, to House it was since he kind of liked the predictable arcs and the overacting.
Sitting up a little, straighter, he shook his head at his friend. “I’m just going to assume that from your lateness that he’s not mine.”
“What?” Sherlock questioned.
Patting his shoulder before standing up, House smirked proudly. “James here would’ve told me sooner if you were mine.”
“Or, I could have a job with patients who need to see their doctor,” Wilson said sarcastically.
“Don’t worry, Wilson. We already accepted that I’m not his daddy dearest. We’re good.”
Sherlock nodded in agreement as he put his jacket and scarf back on. “Just tell us the news and I suppose I’ll be going.”
“It’s nice that you two agree on this, but you’re both wrong. House… You have a kid.”
Which was not what House was expecting in the slightest. Looking Sherlock over, he frowned before sitting on the edge of his desk. Sherlock simply stood there with his hand on his scarf, the shocked look in his eyes almost matching the one on House’s face, though apparently there was a reason for that now.
“Oh come on. This can’t be that bad, can it?” Wilson asked, trying to coax something out of one of them.
“Your friend has an adult son who he never knew about and who’s life he played no part in. Which would be fine if I wasn’t so much like him,” Sherlock explained quietly.
“No one is that much like, House. Yeah, you’re both jerks, but…a lot of people are.”
House shook his head in disagreement. “He’s wearing nicotine patches. About three that I’ve noticed. Add up that with the personality and addiction to mysteries, you kind of have the Diet version of me.”
Giving in, Wilson nodded as he held up his hands. “Alright. But, Sherlock, this is what you wanted. How are you not happy?”
“Right,” House said. “He should be thrilled that his mom cheated on a man he actually considers a father. Pretty sure there already people he already has a family he relates to in some way. This… This is just finding out he’s less connected to them than he actually expected.”
With that, Sherlock nodded quietly before slipping out of the room. Wilson stood there, unsure of whether or not he should do something as House merely gathered up his things and headed out as well.
“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Wilson questioned.
“Why?”
“He’s your son.”
“Yeah,” House agreed before walking in the other direction.
Out the corner of his eye, he could see Wilson rub at his face tiredly as he tried to pick which one of them to chase after. And House couldn’t actually bring himself to care either way since he was having enough trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that he had a son. A dead son, but a son nevertheless.
