Chapter Text
Three weeks earlier....
House sat with Coma Guy, watching General Hospital on the overhead TV in the patient room. He yawned tiredly, still jet-lagged from visiting his 27-year-old son in London for a week.
Sherlock now worked with the police as a consultant, and House never understood his son's profession. He was a doctor, a secure and fulfilling career, but he was still proud of him. He worried, as all fathers do, especially after Sherlock overdosed on cocaine four years ago at Oxford.
House's phone rang, and he picked it up from his pocket, expecting one of the fellows. He responded gruffly, "House."
"Dad?"
It was Sherlock's voice, sounding hoarse. He switched to French because he didn't want to let down his facade. "Hello, Sherlock. Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Sherlock answered in English. "Is it okay to take Amantadine for the flu?"
"No," House responded.
"Why?"
He wanted to say something snarky, but in the end, he changed course. "Wilson's ex-girlfriend, Amber, died because she took Amantadine."
"What should I do? Molly's wedding is tomorrow. Damn," Sherlock sounded disappointed to House's ears.
House spoke in Italian. "I'm sorry, kid, but you sound sick. Bedrest for you, okay?"
"I know."
House never could have anticipated the hellish nightmare that would occur three weeks later.