A/N: Seriously, I think I need help...
Disclaimer: I don't own House, or any of it's characters, Stephen Fry, or Hugh Laurie. But a girl can dream...
Tidyman's Carpets Presents: House M.D.
Dr. James Wilson had just stepped out of his office, and had begun walking down the hall. All of a sudden, he paused, blinked, and quickly self-diagnosed himself as having a hallucination. Coming down the hall, in the opposite direction, was a tall, middle-aged man with a contorted snarl. He didn't walk, rather, he dragged his left leg limply behind him, as though it was about to fall off at any moment. When the man reached Wilson, he frowned and said in an appalling version of an American accent, "I'm looking for Dr. Gregory House."
"And who are you?" asked Wilson.
"I," the man said, grandly. "Am Dr. Jonathan Nounnotaname. I am extremely rude and irritable to everyone I meet, but they are all forced to put up with me solely based on the fact that I am a genius and save many lives on a regular basis."
"Okay..." said Wilson, wondering how he might be able to escape and find the nearest phone to call security.
Just then, House appeared at the end of the hall. Taub and Thirteen were with him, telling their boss that all the test results on a patient had come back negative. The strange man turned, saw House, and shouted, "There you are, you pathetic excuse for a living being, you drooling amoeba sitting in a pile of ape dung!"
All the while the man was talking, House had abruptly left off listening to his underlings, and had calmly limped down the hall, so that he was now face to face with the man. "What are you doing here, Stephen?" he asked. "The counselor said we needed time apart."
"Oh, screw him," said Stephen in a now British accent, immediately standing upright. "What does he know, anyway?"
"I thought we were making real progress," said House.
"Bollocks," said Stephen.
"You know," said House. "Sometimes I don't think you even appreciate me."
"What a stupid thought!"
"See," said House. "See, right there. You're mean, and patronizing, and abusive."
"I am not!" declared Stephen, who then, in an effort to prove so, punched House in the face so that he tumbled to the floor.
Now Wilson seriously was about to call security. He started to edge away when House got back up to his feet and grinned. "God, I missed that."
"Me too," smiled Stephen. "Let's never fight again, darling. For the children's sake."
"What children?" asked House.
"Oh," said Stephen, apologetically. "There weren't any children? Sorry."
"I think you meant 'pun,'" said House.
"But there was no pun," said Stephen.
"Well I know that," said House.
"So," said Stephen. "We both agree that there was no pun."
"Correct," said House.
Wilson, in the meantime, thought his head was going to explode. Thirteen and Taub had, by this time, made their way over to the commotion.
"What's going on?" asked Thirteen.
"Nothing really," said House. "Just a man down the hall who is slowly dying."
"But the results came back negative," she said.
"Check for Legionnaires' disease," said House.
"But I thought you ruled that out?" said Taub.
"Well, I changed my mind," said House. "Now go!" Taub and Thirteen quickly rushed off to do their assigned tasks.
"Oh, that was superb!" Stephen remarked after they had gone. "I must say, you haven't lost your touch."
"That's very kind of you, Stephen," said House.
"Now, come along," said Stephen. "We've got to get back."
"To where?" Wilson finally interrupted.
"To Britain, of course," said Stephen, as though it were completely obvious. He turned and House began to follow.
"Wait," said Wilson. House turned back to him. "That's ridiculous. You can't just drop everything and leave. Lives are counting on you."
"That is true," House conceded, nodding to Stephen.
"Oh," Stephen said. "Very well. Have it your way... But I'm bunking at your place until I find suitable accommodations."
"House doesn't have a place," said Wilson. "He bums off me."
"Well," said Stephen. "I hope you don't mind another bum squatting by you. I myself am practically thrilled by the idea."
"Wait just a minute..."
"Now," said Stephen. "If you may be so grand for just one noble moment, would you please tell me your address so that I might drop off my things?"
"You're not staying with us," said Wilson.
"Party pooper," mumbled House.
"I don't even know him!" Wilson said to House, while pointing to Stephen.
"Oh, sorry," said House. "This is Stephen. Stephen, this is Wilson."
"How do you do?" said Stephen.
"Not so good, actually," said Wilson.
"Did you know it's actually improper etiquette to answer 'How do you do?' with any other phrase besides 'How do you do?'" said Stephen.
"That's quite interesting," said House.
"My thought exactly," said Stephen.
Wilson screamed in frustration.
"Calm down, Wilson," House said.
"I will not calm down!" said Wilson through gritted teeth. "Not until someone explains to me what the heck is going on!"
"It's a frightfully long story," said Stephen. "I'm afraid you'd be awfully bored if David Cameron* explained it to you over an intimate dinner for two in the corner booth of a dimly lit restaurant."
"Come along," Stephen said. "You shall pay for lunch."
"I will not," said Wilson.
"Suit yourself," House said. "But I don't think we'll be allowed back to that restaurant again if you skip out without paying."
"Did I fall down the stairs this morning, hit my head, and slip into a coma?" Wilson asked. "Because this cannot be real."
"That wouldn't have happened if your floors were carpeted by Tidyman," said Stephen.
"Tidyman's Carpets," said House. "Isn't about time you had a pleasurable shag?"
"What are you talking about?" said Wilson, at his wit's end.
"Oh, poor fellow," said Stephen. He turned to his friend. "We've made him confused."
"That's too bad," agreed House.
"I blame Marjorie," said Stephen, putting spiteful emphasis on the name.
"Damn!" muttered House.
"That's it," said Wilson, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm leaving." He turned to Stephen. "You can have him," he added, pointing to House.
"Just as it should be," said Stephen. He turned to House and extended his hand. "Good to see you, m'colleague."
"You too, m'colleague," said House, shaking Stephen's hand in a show of pure friendship.
* No disrespect to Prime Minister David Cameron. His name was used for purely comedic purposes (at least I hope it was comedic...)