The Collector - Chapter Three
Author: HouseJackBuilt1
Characters: House/Wilson/Chase/Cameron/Foreman/Cuddy/OC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None... yet
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, I don't have the neccessary gadgets.
Author's Note: I have posted this story on FanFiction.net (it's finally finished) so if you don't want to know what happens in later chapters, read the story as I update it here folks ;)
Story Summary: A deadly and sadistic killer is on the loose and he's collecting Doctors. Try and guess who he has his sights on? Comments and feedback are lovely :)
The oversized red and grey tennis ball bounced off the wall and House caught it with ease. He threw it again and again, catching it every time. House often did this when he was thinking and the answer to some unsolved puzzle wouldn’t come to him right away. This answer refused to come out of hiding though, no matter how hard he concentrated or how many times he threw the tennis ball.
He had escaped from the clinic’s jungle of snotty noses, chesty coughs and crotch-rots fifteen minutes earlier for lunch and had come to his office to think about the rather sinister phone call incident that took place over an hour ago. He wondered who it was breathing heavily into the receiver on the other end, or if it was just Chase doing a really bad Darth Vader impression. He hoped it was the latter because even though the former could be something completely different to what he was imagining, he had a feeling that it wasn’t. But House was a man of facts and science; he rarely went through life basing his decisions on feelings or hunches. So the facts so far say that it’s far more likely that Chase is off sick than him being hacked by a man in a hockey mask, abducted by aliens or bludgeoned by a burglar. He pushed the breathing part to the back of his mind.
House put a Vicodin into his mouth and swallowed it dry just as Cuddy and a uniformed police officer came into his office. House held his hands up as if surrendering. “Officer, I swear I didn’t do it. It was the voices in my head!” But neither the police officer, nor Cuddy were in a joking mood and House knew this wasn’t going to be good news. Cameron and Foreman also took this time to join them having seen the police officer and Cuddy from the conference room, they knew this was going to be about Chase and wanted to hear the news.
House looked at the police officer. He was tall and well built; he had deep brown eyes and a head of jet black, combed back hair. He didn’t suit that uniform at all; House thought he would look more at home in a black suit with a white shirt and a homburg hat with a cigar in his mouth.
The officer stepped forward and spoke (he even sounded like a mafia guy, House noted) “Doctor House, I’m Officer Mosca. I’m afraid it ain’t good news about Doctor Chase.”
House felt his stomach tighten but didn’t let his expression show it. “Well way to keep me in suspense Officer, you want to leave me hanging all day?”
Cuddy looked annoyed, and Foreman and Cameron looked worried. Mosca continued, “I got a call about forty minutes ago from the security guard that Doctor Cuddy sent over to Chase’s home to check on him. He said he got no response when he knocked on Chase’s door and when he looked through the window it looked as if the place had been ransacked. So he called the police and when I went over there and kicked the door in, sure enough the place looked like a bomb sight. There were clear signs of a struggle and the phone was off the hook.”
“Maybe he just had a drunken night last night and trashed the place, he is Australian you know,” House suggested, trying to add a bit of humour into a far from humorous situation.
“I don’t think so; the evidence in his place strongly suggests kidnap. Along with the heavy breathing you heard when you called his place and... this.” Mosca handed House an evidence bag with a piece of paper inside. “It was found lying beside Chase’s phone.”
House looked at the piece of paper. In neatly printed letters were the words:
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
House turned over the evidence bag to see the other side of the note. His name was printed in bold, capital letters. He thought it would be addressed to him seeing as the short poem had the word ‘house’ in it more than once. What the hell was going on here?
________________________________________________________________
He stood alone under the shelter of a large oak tree, his breath coming out in frosty white puffs of air, the night chill making his lips numb. He pulled his collar up high around his neck, keeping out as much of the cold as he could. He watched the building opposite him like a hawk waiting for its prey, ever watchful and always ready. He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the thick trunk of the canvassing oak. Not once person who had walked past had noticed him, all too involved in their own personal thoughts and dilemmas. They wouldn’t notice him unless he jumped out from his hiding place and gutted them with a filleting knife, because he was as silent as a fox, as still as a statue and the shadows engulfed him making him virtually impossible to detect. He lived in shadow and knew how to use them to his advantage. They could either be your best friend or your worst enemy.
He wondered when the doctor would come home. He had to handle this one differently to the blonde one. The blonde man wasn’t too difficult to take down physically but he knew this one would be more of a challenge. So he decides to wait until he’s asleep. He should be able to pick the lock on his door easily enough. Yes, he’ll wait until the doctor is asleep; he’s good at waiting...
Chapter One Here
Chapter Two Here
Characters: House/Wilson/Chase/Cameron/Foreman/Cuddy/OC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None... yet
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, I don't have the neccessary gadgets.
Author's Note: I have posted this story on FanFiction.net (it's finally finished) so if you don't want to know what happens in later chapters, read the story as I update it here folks ;)
Story Summary: A deadly and sadistic killer is on the loose and he's collecting Doctors. Try and guess who he has his sights on? Comments and feedback are lovely :)
The oversized red and grey tennis ball bounced off the wall and House caught it with ease. He threw it again and again, catching it every time. House often did this when he was thinking and the answer to some unsolved puzzle wouldn’t come to him right away. This answer refused to come out of hiding though, no matter how hard he concentrated or how many times he threw the tennis ball.
He had escaped from the clinic’s jungle of snotty noses, chesty coughs and crotch-rots fifteen minutes earlier for lunch and had come to his office to think about the rather sinister phone call incident that took place over an hour ago. He wondered who it was breathing heavily into the receiver on the other end, or if it was just Chase doing a really bad Darth Vader impression. He hoped it was the latter because even though the former could be something completely different to what he was imagining, he had a feeling that it wasn’t. But House was a man of facts and science; he rarely went through life basing his decisions on feelings or hunches. So the facts so far say that it’s far more likely that Chase is off sick than him being hacked by a man in a hockey mask, abducted by aliens or bludgeoned by a burglar. He pushed the breathing part to the back of his mind.
House put a Vicodin into his mouth and swallowed it dry just as Cuddy and a uniformed police officer came into his office. House held his hands up as if surrendering. “Officer, I swear I didn’t do it. It was the voices in my head!” But neither the police officer, nor Cuddy were in a joking mood and House knew this wasn’t going to be good news. Cameron and Foreman also took this time to join them having seen the police officer and Cuddy from the conference room, they knew this was going to be about Chase and wanted to hear the news.
House looked at the police officer. He was tall and well built; he had deep brown eyes and a head of jet black, combed back hair. He didn’t suit that uniform at all; House thought he would look more at home in a black suit with a white shirt and a homburg hat with a cigar in his mouth.
The officer stepped forward and spoke (he even sounded like a mafia guy, House noted) “Doctor House, I’m Officer Mosca. I’m afraid it ain’t good news about Doctor Chase.”
House felt his stomach tighten but didn’t let his expression show it. “Well way to keep me in suspense Officer, you want to leave me hanging all day?”
Cuddy looked annoyed, and Foreman and Cameron looked worried. Mosca continued, “I got a call about forty minutes ago from the security guard that Doctor Cuddy sent over to Chase’s home to check on him. He said he got no response when he knocked on Chase’s door and when he looked through the window it looked as if the place had been ransacked. So he called the police and when I went over there and kicked the door in, sure enough the place looked like a bomb sight. There were clear signs of a struggle and the phone was off the hook.”
“Maybe he just had a drunken night last night and trashed the place, he is Australian you know,” House suggested, trying to add a bit of humour into a far from humorous situation.
“I don’t think so; the evidence in his place strongly suggests kidnap. Along with the heavy breathing you heard when you called his place and... this.” Mosca handed House an evidence bag with a piece of paper inside. “It was found lying beside Chase’s phone.”
House looked at the piece of paper. In neatly printed letters were the words:
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
House turned over the evidence bag to see the other side of the note. His name was printed in bold, capital letters. He thought it would be addressed to him seeing as the short poem had the word ‘house’ in it more than once. What the hell was going on here?
________________________________________________________________
He stood alone under the shelter of a large oak tree, his breath coming out in frosty white puffs of air, the night chill making his lips numb. He pulled his collar up high around his neck, keeping out as much of the cold as he could. He watched the building opposite him like a hawk waiting for its prey, ever watchful and always ready. He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the thick trunk of the canvassing oak. Not once person who had walked past had noticed him, all too involved in their own personal thoughts and dilemmas. They wouldn’t notice him unless he jumped out from his hiding place and gutted them with a filleting knife, because he was as silent as a fox, as still as a statue and the shadows engulfed him making him virtually impossible to detect. He lived in shadow and knew how to use them to his advantage. They could either be your best friend or your worst enemy.
He wondered when the doctor would come home. He had to handle this one differently to the blonde one. The blonde man wasn’t too difficult to take down physically but he knew this one would be more of a challenge. So he decides to wait until he’s asleep. He should be able to pick the lock on his door easily enough. Yes, he’ll wait until the doctor is asleep; he’s good at waiting...
Chapter One Here
Chapter Two Here