A/N: Don't ask me where this idea came from; I couldn't tell you. Needless to say, I do not own House, Hugh Laurie, or Stephen Fry. If I did, then Stephen would soon be making a very necessary guest appearance on the show. Anyway... on with the story.
Dr. Gregory House walked down the hallway. It was rather late in the morning, and his head was pounding. The sunglasses he wore over his eyes hid the redness caused by little sleep mixed with excessive amounts of drugs and alcohol; plus, they made him look cool. He took off the sunglasses and was just about to turn the handle on the door to his office, when he heard a voice.
"Hugh!" said the voice, which was decidedly British. "Hugh, my fluffy darling, I've finally found you."
House turned to see a tall, middle aged man with a slightly crooked nose standing beside him. "Am I supposed to know you?"
"What's wrong with you?" said the strange British man, with a look that quickly turned from unabashed joy to shocked confusion. "And, oh god, what happened to your leg?"
"That's none of your business," said House. "Now get out of my face before I call security and they send you to a place where no one will hear you scream."
"Hugh, what's going on?" said the man. "Do you really not recognize me? Wait, hold still, Hugh. I think you have amnesia."
"Okay, A) I have never met you before," said House, now thoroughly annoyed. "B) I don't have amnesia. And C) why would I hold still if I had amnesia?"
"Because of this-" the man suddenly grabbed at House's cane and quickly whacked House over the head with it. House fell to the ground with a crash. The commotion, however, brought over a small crowd. Wilson rushed over, attempting to wrestle the cane from the man. Cuddy bent down to help House sit up. He looked dazed, and scanned the hall. He looked up and saw the man, which caused him to frown. "Stephen, I told you that you hit too hard. That one really hurt."
"Aw, poor widdums have a boo boo?" said Stephen, in a mocking tone. Then, a sudden flash of realization. "Wait! Hugh, you recognize me!"
"What are you on about?" said Hugh, as Cuddy helped him to his feet. "Of course I do. I've only known you since university." He rolled his eyes. "Sheesh! Can you believe this guy?"
"House, what's with your accent?" asked Cuddy, as she noticed he was now speaking with a British accent.
"What accent?" asked Hugh, in all innocence. "This is my normal voice. And who's House? As a matter of fact, who are you?"
"It's me, Lisa Cuddy. Your boss." She was starting to worry.
"I don't have a boss," said Hugh. "Though sometimes Stephen acts like he is. But I don't hold that against him."
"Come along, m'colleague," said Stephen. "We best get you home. I think your wife is beginning to suspect that the pillow on which I attached a picture of your face is not actually you."
"Wait," said Cuddy. This was going just a little too far by now. "Hold on a second. Would someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?"
"Yes," said Stephen, stopping to face her. "And I apologize for your confusion. M'colleague, Hugh, went missing several years back. I've been scanning the globe, pulling in all my resources trying to find him. And now, I've finally pinpointed him to this exact spot on which he is so wonderfully standing at this moment in time."
"House, if this is your idea of a joke..." she started.
"I assure you that we are very serious," said Stephen. "But now that you mention it, it's a very good idea for a sketch. Hugh, do you have a pen so that I may write this all down?"
"No, not on me?" he said, patting his pockets in search. He soon gave up and stuck out his wrist. "But will this watch do?"
"No, I don't think it would."
"Oh well," said Hugh.
"Indeed," said Stephen. After a slight pause, he continued, "Well, let's go."
"But he's House," protested Cuddy. "The best doctor in this hospital. You can't just take him away."
Just then, two young women passed through the hall, saw the group, turned to each other, and screamed and ran up to them. "Oh my god! It's Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie! Ahh!"
"Oh please, please, please, Misters Fry and Laurie, we're your biggest fans."
"Tsk, tsk," said Stephen to his friend. "Doesn't it just get you right here when you see young women with self-esteem issues?"
"Can we have your autographs?" asked one of the fans, producing a pen and paper.
"I don't see why not. Here you are."
"Ahh!" they shrieked again. Then one of them stepped forward with a more courageous question. "Oh, Mr. Hugh Laurie, my friend and I want to know if you wouldn't mind singing 'Mystery'?"
"Umm..." said Hugh, thinking. "Alright, I suppose I could oblige that simple request:
Mystery. All my life has been a mystery.
You and I were never ever meant to be.
That's why I call my love for-"
"Stop!" cried Cuddy. "Before my head explodes." She shooed the fangirls away. "House, please just stop this stupid act."
"Stupid act?" said Hugh, offended. "I'll have you know that 'Mystery' is one of my most popular songs."
"What?" said Wilson, who until that moment had been watching in silent confusion as he processed the situation. "So you're a singer now?"
"Well, singer...actor... writer... comedian..."
"I don't believe this!" said Cuddy. "You're Dr. Gregory House! You're rude, sarcastic, grumpy, and save countless lives on a regular basis."
"I'm sorry," said Hugh. "But you must have me confused with some other fellow. I'm Hugh Laurie. This is m'colleague, Stephen Fry. We're comedians, very well known in the UK. Oh, that reminds me, Stephen, did I ever tell you about the time that Emma and I-"
"Who's Emma?" asked Wilson.
"You know the award-winning actress and screenwriter Emma Thompson?"
"Of course," said Hugh. "Wow, you Americans really don't know anything about British entertainment. Next you'll be saying you've never heard of the Doctor."
"Doctor who?" asked Wilson.
"Well," said Hugh. "At least you know that much. But you've never seen A Bit of Fry and Laurie? Jeeves and Wooster? What about Blackadder? Hmm?" He was right up in Wilson and Cuddy's faces by that point.
"Hugh," said Stephen, leading his friend a few steps back. "Hugh, calm down. No need to get so riled up." He then turned to the others. "You must excuse him, sometimes he gets a little funny."
"I can see that," said Cuddy.
"Come along, Hugh," he said. "Say goodbye to the nice people. Goodbye."
"But-" started Cuddy.
"Tut, tut," said Stephen. "We mustn't prolong these things, you know. It just makes it harder. Well, so long."
"I don't believe this!" said Cuddy, heaving her arms up in annoyance.
"And you know what I can't believe?" said Hugh.
"What?" asked Stephen.
"How tedious this bit has become," he answered. "Now, what I would've done is cut out that part in the middle, maybe rephrase some of the lines to give them more of a punch..."
"Oh," said Stephen. "So you think you could have done better?"
"Well, frankly, yes."
"Oh, really? So, tell me, oh funny one, how would you end this scene?"
"Well," said Hugh. There was a long pause, causing Stephen to nod in triumph. "You can't expect me to come up with one on the spot. We might as well cut our losses and end it right here."
"You think so?" asked Stephen.
"Yeah," said Hugh.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," said Stephen.