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Sherlock v. House
Introduction
"Doctor Robert Chase - Princeton Plainsboro Diagnostics."
He leaned back wearily in his chair and picked up the familiar red and gray over-sized tennis ball from its resting place and tossed it lightly in the air as he answered the phone. He had watched House perform this very juggling act many times during his tenure as mentor but somehow he had always managed to make multitasking into an art form and Chase was not House.
He had gone through dozens of team members since he was appointed Chief of Diagnostic Medicine but none of them seemed capable of helping him the way he and Allison and all the others had helped House. They were all great doctors but in the end they never seemed to tell him anything he hadn't already thought of and so he eventually got rid of them too. He still had two more left and am opening for a third but the pile of candidates had grown thinner and thinner over the past five years and none were very promising.
Case files were piling up and not being solved. People were dying without a diagnosis that wasn't also a post-mortem.
His personal life was nonexistent and Allison had moved on.
He was alone just like House had always been but at least he had Wilson. Chase didn't even have that. Everything was on his shoulders.
Foreman had considered cutting the department altogether but having a department of diagnostic medicine was unheard of even if it wasn't headed up by the legendary Dr Greg House.
It wasn't like he didn't have any success but they were usually minor ones. Something that another doctor had missed or some test that had been done wrong or given a false reading. He still counted them as wins but they didn't feel like big wins and those were few and far between.
He felt like he was always just one step ahead of the wolves and soon the entire enterprise would be devoured because he wasn't House.
The phone called focused his mind sharply when he realized it was the private investigator he had hired.
Recently, some of his more difficult cases had been solved by small notes faxed to the office from various numbers in New York City. Nothing overt. No definitive diagnoses just facts or clues or hints that would take him in a direction that he hadn't thought of and would more times than not, lead to a diagnosis.
He had questioned all the usual suspects, Taub, 13, the others, but they all vehemently denied even knowing what he was talking about. When he mentioned it to Foreman, he jested that perhaps House was communicating with him from beyond the grave.
Foreman could be such a jerk but that got him thinking that maybe House wasn't dead after all?
Initially, he dismissed it as a feverish wish but every so often something would come through that was just the kind of miraculous outrage that House would come up with so he decided to look into it and see if it was possible that perhaps somehow House hadn't died in that fire?
The first few PIs had no luck whatsoever and seemed convinced that the body buried beneath House's gravestone was the man himself but one investigator who had met House on a few occasions said to him that is He didn't want to be found, he was probably smart enough to prevent it?
That made sense to Chase and for time he let it go but then another investigator called him and told him that there was a detective of sorts living in New York that might be up to such a challenge.
"Dr Chase - this is Sherlock Holmes..."
The British accent on the phone was unmistakeable. He had gotten through to the world's foremost investigative sleuth. All he had to do was convince the man that this case would be sufficiently worth his while.
A tall order.
Chase took a deep breath and began to recount the tale of his former mentor to the voice on the phone. Before he even finished his first sentence the voice stopped him.
"Sorry to interrupt your dissertation doctor but I am familiar with this man already.
His prowess with deduction attracted my attention several years back and I had heard that he met an unfortunate death.
The fact that you have contacted me indicates that perhaps you believe his death was not - how shall we say - fatal?...”
Chase was stunned although in his heart he knew that he should not be. From what he had heard, Holmes was every bit the genius that House was and, of course, kindred spirits were not likely to be unknown to one another. Still, having his rehearsed appeal cut short had left him speechless nonetheless.
“...uh...”
There was an awkward silence for just an instant before Holmes interjected himself into it.
“Is it safe to assume you would like me to attempt to find the man - as it were?”
“Why - yes. Exactly. That’s what I was hoping. Will you take the case?”
Chase’s words rushed out of him in a stammer and Holmes immediately reassured him.
“I shall be in New Jersey directly to gather what relevant facts as may be collected.
Try to write down as much of your recollection as you can. I will review it when I arrive.”
Before Chase could respond the sudden arrival of the dial tone let him know the conversation was at end.
He couldn’t help but notice how similar Holmes and House were in their demeanors even though the former’s British politeness masked it well.
He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair feeling somewhat vindicated as a brief smile formed on his face.
Something inside of him told him that House was still alive and the thought that Sherlock Holmes was at least in partial agreement gave him a grim satisfaction that he may one day see his old mentor again.
Later that evening Chase returned to the apartment that he and Allison had shared for those few years that they were married. He could have moved on but that was never something that he found easy to do. He had tried on more than a few occasions to leave House in the past but always managed to find a way to return. With no family and no wife, the familiarity of the hospital and this apartment were the only constants left to him and he clung to them with an Aussie tenacity that would have quickly incurred House’s mocking if he were around to inflict it but he was not.
Walking up to the building he barely registered the fact that he had left one of the lights on that he could see from the street but gave it little thought. As he made his way through the lobby and up, his mind wandered as it jostled between thoughts of his growing backlog of cases and notions of where House could have been for the past three years. As he put his keys in the door he could hear the sound of his television emanating from within.
“I know I didn’t leave the TV on...”
He thought wanly to himself.
Opening the door he found himself confronted by a slim, well built man, not tall but his stature implied one of extreme confidence if not overpowering might. He was seated erect on one of his chairs facing the door. As he entered, the man stood slowly upright as if he were about to render a salute. His hair was shorn close to the sides of his head with a slightly longer tousle arranged on top.
“I am Sherlock Holmes”
Said the man with a slight nod, his hands slightly clenched into loose fists at his waist.
“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in? I wanted to begin as soon as possible.”
Chase was a bit bewildered at first but he and others had broken into many places before but still he wondered,
“How did you?... That door was locked and dead bolted.”
The man gave a brief smile and sniffed derisively,
“About that. You really should invest in better security. Anyone with modest skill could best it in a matter of moments. I can make a recommendation if you like?”
There was a brief moment of silence as Chase attempted to orient himself to the presence of the strange man in his apartment but he recovered quickly.
He was used to odd.
“Um - sure that would be great...”
Holmes seemed entirely unaware of the discomfort he is created by being found unannounced in another man’s apartment but the slight bobbing up and down as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet belied his eagerness to move forward.
Chase was eager to oblige.
“So - you’ve come to New Jersey? What can I do to help you with your search?”
Holmes turned swiftly on his heel and paced stiffly away toward the kitchen.
“I have aquatinted myself with the particulars of your “Dr. House’s” disappearance. It would seem that you are very much justified in suspecting that this man is not - in fact - dead...”
Opening the refrigerator Holmes left his words hanging in the air as he burrowed into its contents coming up with a bottle of water.
“Do you mind?”
Holmes’ inquiry was more of an afterthought than a genuine request for permission. It was readily apparent that the great detective, like House, gave little thought to the comforts and platitudes of ordinary people. Chase mused to himself again how similar was the demeanor of this man to Dr House.
Both men seemed entirely disinterested in the thoughts and opinions of others and even less about the impressions they might leave in those they were in contact with.
Holmes had a kind of nervous energy about him that may have made him appear uneasy but Chase could tell that it was only the rapidity with which his thoughts were racing to take in information that made him appear so.
“No - by all means - help yourself.”
Chase placed his coat on its hook by the door and moved towards the sitting chair next to where Holmes had been.
“So how does this - work? How do you start looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found?”
Holmes was already nodding as if he had moved well along that path and had to draw himself back to bring Chase up to date.
“Mmm - that is a good question, but that is the thing about deduction. It does not matter where one starts, only that one does start and let the facts guide the theory and not the other way round.”
He had set the bottle down and had taken to pacing somewhat stiffly back and forth across the kitchen with his hands pushed tightly into his black, navy pea coat that he had not removed.
“I have taken the liberty to access your emails regarding this anonymous benefactor who has been assisting you in your practice. You really should consider a more thoughtful approach to password security? “Allison” is not nearly so obscure as you might think. I would posit that your divorce from your ex is not as final as she may believe - at least as far as you are concerned...but that is a matter for another discussion.”
Chase’s mind was now reeling.
In the span of two minutes Sherlock had broken into his home, revealed his email password, assessed his relationship with his ex wife and raided his refrigerator. While House may have him feel like an idiot on multiple occasions, he had never felt so disconcerted and now could barely manage to speak.
“Um - okay?...”
Chase stared at Sherlock for several long seconds, each one making him a bit more uncomfortable than the last. Even though Sherlock was nodding slightly and rocking up onto the balls of his feet - it wasn’t discomfort that motivated him but apparently just his eagerness to move things along.
“Well then.” He began.
“It appears that Doctor House is in or around the city of New York, which is logical given that his own personal renown prohibits him from reentering the mainstreams of society. He attempted to hide the IP addresses that he uses for such correspondence but my friends at Everyone assure me that he is posting from somewhere in Queens. That, of course, does not mean that he is living there but I can think of few other places where such a man could remain anonymous.”
Holmes’ brief dissertation afforded Chase a moment to catch up and with the shock of finding someone in his apartment fading, he found that he could begin asking questions.
“So does that mean you have a theory about his whereabouts?”
The detective grimaced in such a way that Chase could not discern whether he was in physical pain or just disliked the question but his answer flowed out of him like a geyser.
“I do not, as of yet, have such a theory but one should be forming quickly if you could provide me with a list of names of persons that the good doctor may have had occasion to visit? Not just any names but rather those who one might consider “undesirables”, “lawbreakers” even?...”
“Lawbreakers? What do you mean?”
Holmes stared at Chase for a second and then proceeded.
“Beyond the ordinary definition of the word? I mean to proceed with the notion that such a man, accustomed to a good life with all its accoutrement, would not be long content living off the grid somewhere in the forest. He has internet access, therefore he has help. The only way he could have help and not come back into the light of society is if he were being helped by those that society scorns - lawbreakers. Additionally, I have found that like I had at one time, Dr House has a penchant for narcotics. Since he cannot write or get written scripts for such fare, he must turn to the black market. It is his entry into those lands that we must seek.”
Chase considered Holmes’ words carefully and although he disliked the direction they pointed to, his logic was irrefutable.
House had been on such a bender when the warehouse he was in collapsed and it was not difficult to imagine that he might, in fact, be off the grid but there could literally be thousands of places that an opiate addict could go unnoticed in New York City.
“So what do you need from me other than a list of names? I mean - do you need a retainer fee or something?”
Holmes’ mouth contorted into a kind of grimace that appeared to be an outright sneer as if the notion of money was distasteful or perhaps he was just becoming bored with the conversation, he could not tell.
“You will find an email where you may submit Dr House’s acquaintances of ill-repute. As for the remuneration? If I have any such need, I will be sure to contact you. Until then, I shall leave you to your “date” preparations”
The detective turned abruptly on his heel and strode toward the door.
“Date? How did you?...”
Chase’s words trailed off as Homes exited his apartment without answer, leaving him with his sense of bewilderment intact.
In all the years he had spent around Dr House he had encountered only a few people whose intellect may have rivaled that of his mentor but now he felt that he had actually met a man whose mental prowess might even surpass it.
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