A Diagnostician's Troubles { lokiswoman

[Nene]

Closed for Lokiswoman
---

On a particularly tedious and rainy autumn evening, Greg House had retreated to his office, the blinds closed as he'd leaned over his desk in the dark; he'd come close to his pain threshold, as he'd spent the morning pleasing Cuddy by caring for patients in the clinic, then he'd gone to the emergency room where he'd taken care of an intriguing, though dying patient that he'd chosen to admit in his team's care.

Worn out, in intense pain and desiring to go on home, House stood on wobbly legs, and grabbing his cane he would be careful and take his time getting out to his bike parked in the lot. As he walked he favored his left leg which had put a lot of strain on his hip, which had caused the poorly diagnostician to hurt worse.

The days where he could use his bike would be numbered and he would have to store his bike and get back into driving that 1-ton metal pain in the ass the world called a car. It would be difficult to take his motor bike home tonight as the rain had gone from light drizzle to torrential downpour, typical for autumn, and distracted by the rain, House hadn't noticed that someone, or rather something abnormal had followed him out of the hospital.

Crossing the parking lot, House stopped abruptly as a wave of vertigo overcame him. With nothing to grab onto, House toppled over, too dizzy and unstable to remain standing. House lay on his side on the ground, unable to cry out to anyone that happened to be nearby, and he had fewer than ten seconds from the time he'd hit the ground to the world around him going completely dark.

His ears rang and he lost consciousness, and all that would be left of Greg House would be a seven year old boy, wrapped comfortably in the clothes that Dr. House had worn that day, the doctor's cane lying two feet from his little frail body. He would be so cold and wet by the time anyone came to him. Fortunately, not all of House's colleagues that he'd found pleasure in irritating had left the hospital and it would not be long at all until he would be discovered.

[LadyLoki]

It had been a long day. The weather hadn’t made it any better, and it didn’t look like the rain was letting up anytime soon. James Wilson was on his way out of the office, after a long today of seeing patients. For whatever reason, the whole hospital had felt off today…and Wilson was looking forward to going home and passing out for the evening. With his leather briefcase firmly in hand, Wilson strode out into the parking lot and headed for his car.

Abruptly he stopped though, raising a brow at the sight of what looked like clothing in the middle of the lot. Wilson stepped closer, before realizing that what he’d thought was a bundle of cloth actually had a child curled up inside it. “Oh my god!” Wilson immediately headed over, dropping his briefcase and kneeling down to scoop the kid up into his arms.

Lifting the dead weight wasn’t all that difficult, considering the kid looked to be around seven years old. How had he gotten here? Why was he wrapped in clothing that was way too big for him? Wilson’s eyes flitted around in panic, before he laid eyes on the discarded cane. If anything his heart almost stopped beating. He glanced down at the unconscious body, and Wilson saw the remnants of features he recognized all too well.

“…House?” Wilson whispered, bewildered. “How the hell did this…even happen?” He asked, even though the kid was out cold. His mind supplied that he shouldn’t curse in front of such a small kid, but Wilson hysterically batted that thought away. What was he supposed to do? This wasn’t something they’d covered in medical school. “House, can you hear me?” Wilson asked, reaching over to grab House’s cane. He stood up with both the kid and the cane in hand, before freezing.

Should he go back to the hospital? Wilson hesitated, before leaning forward to press his head against House’s skinny chest. He could hear a steady heartbeat, as well as House’s breathing. After a moment’s more indecision, Wilson decided it would be best to take House with him, back to his apartment. House’s team was gone for the day, taking advantage of the end of their most recent case. Cuddy was here, but she’d want House poked and prodded until the man (boy) tore his hair out. This was a bad decision...a bad, stupid, impulsive decision, but Wilson was going to make it anyway. “Looks like you’re with me, House.” Wilson sighed, forcing himself to keep calm.

There had to be an explanation for this. A reasonable, scientific explanation. His hands were shaking as he buckled House into the backseat of his car, and even the short drive home was shaky. As soon as they arrived, Wilson propped House up on pillows on his bed, before once again trying to revive his unconscious colleague. “House! House, you need to wake up!” Wilson said, lightly patting the youthful face, as hard as he dared anyway.

[Nene]

Under complete sedation as well as the effects of Vicodin overtaking him, House would be completely unconscious and not at all aware that his best friend had come to his aid. When Wilson gathered him into his arms off of the cold, wet pavement of the parking lot, House's concussed noggin that he'd slammed into the ground groggily lulled to the side, the doctor's now tiny body limp as a ragdoll.

He would gradually come out of this unconscious state though would be unable to open his eyes or process what was happening as Wilson drove him to his apartment; he'd felt the warmth and the comfort of someone holding him, and caught the sounds of a door opening and closing, the door locking, and those familiar footsteps. The world swayed back and forth in House's groggy brain as Wilson carried him and laid him down carefully on a soft bed.

The diagnostician would have no recollection of anything that had happened after he'd feared he'd 'stroked out', and when he came to with the light pats to one of those little cheeks, he would be terribly disoriented. Those familiar blues slowly opened and took in the details of the area around him, and then looking to Wilson. "Wuh... Wilson...? Wuh happen...?" the voice that came out had not belonged to him though that would further convince him that he'd had a stroke.

That would be when those memories came back to him of the moments in the parking lot that he'd gone from okay and standing to on the ground and unable to cry out. "... stroke," he whispered, "Wilson... I ... had a stroke." House's voice broke into a whisper, and those disoriented blues closed to rest, his reality altered slightly from the sedative and the Vicodin.

As a brilliant medical doctor, House had known that they would have had to act fast to save his life if he'd had a stroke, though something would be terribly wrong, and it wouldn't be that he'd had a stroke. He hadn't realised yet that he'd lost nearly three feet from his height and forty years off his age. He'd wanted to go back to sleep, though it would not be a good idea to go back to sleep as he'd acquired a concussion and a nasty bump on the side of his forehead by his temple.

[LadyLoki]

“I was hoping you could tell me what happened.” Wilson responded, eyes still staring at the sight of a tiny Greg House sitting on his bed. He was either hallucinating, or having a very, very strange dream. Wilson reached out a hand slowly to brush over the bump House must have acquired when he hit the pavement. “A stroke? House, I don’t think a stroke could do this to you.” The oncologist said hesitantly, before settling forward.

Wilson couldn’t let House go to sleep until he looked him over, at least to make sure the knock to House’s head wasn’t serious. “You…You’re tiny.” He said after a moment, reaching out again to ghost a touch over the knot on the side of House’s head. “You can’t be…can’t be more than seven or eight.” In all honestly, Wilson knew he wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. It was like he was in the twilight zone. “House, you’re a child. An actual child.”

All of the times he had teased House about acting like a kid were coming back to haut him. “I don’t…” Wilson took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down before he had a stroke, for real. “Nope, sorry House, you can’t go back to sleep.” He said immediately, nudging the little form a bit to ensure House didn’t fall back into an unconscious doze. “You knocked your head pretty hard when you fell…stay with me, I’m going to look you over and make sure you’re…intact.” Wilson said after a moment, placing a hand on House’s shoulder.

His hand dwarfed the thin shoulders now. “Do you remember what happened? Anything?” Wilson questioned, thanking whatever lucky stars existed that House had his memories clearly, if he remembered who Wilson was. He slowly untangled House from the clothing the boy had been wrapped in, raising a brow at the prominent scar still present on House’s right leg. “You just…shrank.”

House seemed fine, other than the knock to his head and the blaringly obvious loss of age. “Is your vision blurry? Anything feel off?” Wilson asked slowly, forcing House to stay with him by talking. “I’m going to get you some ice for the bump you took…then…” Then he didn’t know what to do. House was a child, with no explanation in sight. What was he going to tell House’s team? Cuddy? Wilson’s mind was in a daze, as he stared at his best friend. “Jesus Christ.” He said finally, before rubbing his temples. Wilson slowly stood, before patting House awkwardly on the shoulder.

“I’ll get the ice.” He said, walking into his kitchen quickly and returning with a small icepack wrapped in a cloth. “Hold this to your head.” Wilson said, before fetching a pen. “Follow this with your eyes, if you can.” He instructed, holding it at eye length. Depending on how well House did, would dictate their options, at this point.

[Nene]

With the drugs still clouding House's brain he couldn't come to any other words to say to the other, other than saying that he'd had a stroke. House winced as Wilson brushed over the bump he'd acquired when he'd slammed his head into the pavement; the pain would be spread over a large area, through his left eyesocket through his temple. His entire head ached from the concussion and he looked to Wilson with an incredulous and troubled expression.

"Couldn't ... do... what to me?" House questioned as Wilson hesitantly told him that a stroke couldn't do, well, whatever this is to him. House wiggled his little toes in the shoes and socks that would be several sizes too big as he paid mind to Wilson's words. This would all be so unreal, so unbelievably absurd. He had to be in a state of altered consciousness, this couldn't be real. "I... this can't be happening, this... can't happen." he weaved his fingers into those short, dark locks and held his aching cranium. There would be no scientific nor medical explanation for this drastic change in his body and that caused anxiety to well in House's little chest.

House, still so groggy from the drugs in his system and the head injury that he'd acquired, and he had thought that, maybe, if he went back to sleep, that he would wake somewhere else, in his office, in the hospital, or at his own apartment, grown, though Wilson would not allow him to do so and that made House irritable. He had no control over this situation at all and he depended on Wilson to care for him in his injured, drugged state. He batted at Wilson's nudging hand impatiently and wriggled when Wilson told him to stay with him and placed a hand on his little shoulder.

The little diagnostician brought his knees closer to his ribs and he rested his head on his knees, "... I remember leaving the hospital to go home, and then... I got dizzy, I lost my balance, and I was paralyzed. I thought I... was having a stroke, then I was... out." House told Wilson and wriggled uncomfortably as Wilson untangled him from the wet clothing. Now mostly undressed, House tried to relax, extending his right leg out to massage the hurting muscles.

"My vision is fine..." House blinked a couple of times and took in the details of the area to be certain of that statement. That wide innocent blue-eyed gaze went back to Wilson and he cleared his throat, considering his words when Wilson went on to question him if anything felt off. "Well, my clothes. I'm wet and cold." he replied and gradually lowered himself to lie on the bed, to curl up with that comfortable, soft quilt, to await Wilson's return with the ice.

House took the ice pack wrapped in a cloth and he held it to the nasty bump near his temple and his lower lip actually wobbled as that hurt to put anything near it. He'd be fortunate to not have cracked his skull. House was crabby, disoriented and confused though he would do as he was told, and with those tired eyes he followed the pen with his eyes, doing well. He hadn't acquired a severe concussion.

[LadyLoki]

The knock to his head didn’t seem to have been too bad, because House’s vision was clear enough and he was able to follow the pen with his eyes fairly well. Wilson then realized just how cold House’s skin was, and he blinked before realizing he should probably warm the child up. “I can’t believe this.” He murmured softly, before realizing there was a second problem. House’s cane was too big for him now. What might was worked for the adult version of the doctor wouldn’t even come close to being useful to House in his current state.

God, House looked adorable with his lower tip trembling and those sullen little eyes. Wilson shook his head to seemingly clear it, before sighing. “You can’t walk.” He stated, because judging from the scar on House’s leg and the way the little thing was rubbing the muscles, whatever this was hadn’t fixed the injury. “C’mon, I’ll carry you.” Wilson said, before scooping House up to balance the child on his hip. He kept the overlarge shirt still wrapped around him, to try and keep the clammy skin somewhat warm. It was easy enough, since House seemed to make for a rather tiny thing. One of his brothers had children, and Wilson figured the principle would be the same. He headed into the bathroom to begin running a warm shower, to at least get House’s body temperature up to what would be considered comfortable.

It took a moment, but Wilson managed to support House’s weight with one arm while reaching down to turn on the tap. He sat down on the toilet lid, to stand House in front of him. “I don’t know how much weight you can put on your leg like this…and I don’t really want to chance you slipping and hitting your head a second time. I’ll keep you upright while you shower, okay?” Wilson said, deciding that, in a strangely literal manner, he was going to have to be the adult in this situation. He’d have to get House one of his shirts too. If this wasn’t worn off by tomorrow, Wilson would have to find something for House to wear. Once the water was warm enough, Wilson unwrapped the shirt from House and picked him up to place him on the water.

He had to kneel to support House’s weight in a way that wouldn’t be awkward, and Wilson was once again hit with a concept of how surreal this was. Regardless, he let House clean himself off and enjoy the warmth of the water. Once House finished up, Wilson grabbed a towel and wrapped House up in the fluffy material, before once again picking him up. Half of his shirt was now damp, but Wilson ignored it in favor of grabbing one of his old t-shirts for House to wear through the night.

Wilson deposited House back on the bed, before handing him the shirt to put on. “What am I supposed to do with you tomorrow?” He asked, talking partially to himself and partially to House. “If whatever the hell this is doesn’t wear off by tomorrow, I can’t just leave a seven year old alone.” Wilson groaned, rubbing his temples. He’d have to take House with him, back to Princeton-Plainsboro tomorrow morning. Maybe he could just hide House in his office…and then get House’s team to start running tests?

“Are you hungry?” Wilson asked after a moment, since he figured House hadn’t eaten dinner. Chances were, House had been just about to leave when he’d been turned into a pint-sized version of himself. “I can order us something to eat…I don’t have anything here.” He shrugged, fishing some takeout menus from his bedside table. Wilson was still staring, unable to help himself. The kid looked so much like House, but so different at the same time.

[Nene]

The cane that House had for a long while would be nearly as tall as him now, though he hadn't realised this, and with the statement that he couldn't walk, House frowned. "I can, with my... cane..." when those words left his lips and he extended a hand out to grab his cane, those baby blues went wide. The cane would be so tall to him, too tall, and the cane would remain where it lay on the bed, lonely as Wilson took House from the comfort of the quilt-covered bed. The spot on the bed where Wilson had laid House had gotten damp and cold as the rain water had seeped into the quilt from House's drenched clothing.

As Wilson held him and carried him without trouble to the bathroom, House held onto him, completely bewildered as he hadn't gotten carried by anyone in nearly four decades; it had left with him a strange perception of the world. He had no qualms over Wilson carrying him anywhere; he'd actually somewhat enjoyed and appreciated it as it took the stress off of his hurting leg. House held on tight as his now older doctor friend balanced him in one arm and extended the other toward the bathtub faucet to turn on the showerhead. The idea of a warm shower appealed to House as he'd still shivered from the chill he'd acquired from the autumn rain.

"...Okay," came House's troubled response to Wilson's decision to hold him upright as he'd showered; House couldn't place a whole lot of stress on his leg and he'd favored his left as he'd done earlier in the evening. He couldn't stay upright on his own, especially as the drugs still hadn't completely left his system, and he had to rely on Wilson not to let him lose his balance. At House's apartment he'd made necessary adjustments for his disability; he'd had a shower chair in the bathtub and a couple of handicap bars on the shower wall. Wilson hadn't had those things and House had nothing to hold onto but Wilson.

House took in the details of the shower, troubled as he'd realised that he'd be too little to reach anything on those shelves, let alone anything at the hospital or his own apartment without climbing. House shook that off and took care to wash the dirt and rain water from his skin and hair, which hadn't taken long at all, and that had taken care of the chill. He'd be warm now, though he still felt unwell; House had developed a low grade fever with that chill, though with the necessary care, he would be better by morning. House would be exhausted by the end of the shower, his head throbbing and his ears ringing and when Wilson wrapped him in that fluffy towel and scooped him up, House laid his head to rest on Wilson's shoulder.

Sat on the soft bed, House took the shirt from Wilson and slipped it on over his head. House would be so little and the shirt would be so large and so long that it would be like a nightgown on him. House frowned at Wilson's concerns and considered his words carefully before he would respond. "Well, I still have a department and a team to take care of." it sounded ridiculous coming from a seven year old but House had meant it. He'd intended to still go about his daily work as the head of the diagnostics department, if they could find an outfit for him that would fit him.

"I was going to go home and finish that pizza, but I guess that pizza's going to have to wait." House told Wilson irritably, and he'd meant for that to be a response to Wilson's question. He'd not eaten since this morning and his stomach growled at the idea of food. House, of course, noticed Wilson staring, though he hadn't said anything. "You know what I like." he told Wilson as he'd noticed the takeout menus.

[LadyLoki]

Wilson almost laughed when House pointed out he still had a department to run, but he managed to hold it on for the sake of not offending his best friend. “House, you can’t be serious. There’s no way Cuddy is going to let you work while you’re a child.” He pointed out, trying to be the voice of reason. “Not to mention it’s going to look awkward if someone walks by and sees your team chatting with a seven year old.” Wilson honestly had no idea what he was going to do, what they were going to do more like. He needed the team to run tests on House anyway, so maybe he could sneak House in until they had a better explanation for Cuddy other than ‘he just shrank’.

His brow shot up at the irritable tone, but Wilson forced himself not to make a comment on it. Losing about forty years of age was grounds for being a little short-tempered. “I think I’ll order Chinese.” Wilson sighed, since it was something he was sure House would eat and reasonably inexpensive to have delivered. It only took him a few minutes to rattle off the order he’d heard House place for years from the same restaurant. House looked a little flushed, so Wilson leaned over and pressed the back of his hand onto the hot little forehead. “I think you have a bit of a fever from being out in the cold.” The oncologist commented, sighing softly. It wasn’t high, and Wilson figured it’d be gone by morning.

House probably wasn’t old enough currently to take an adult fever reducer, but Wilson figured half a tablet and some food would be enough to take care of the low grade fever the kid was running. “Come on.” Wilson said, scooping House up and settling the child back onto his hip. House for his part seemed content to let Wilson tote him around, probably because there wasn’t any weight on his leg. “We’re going to sit on the couch and wait for the food.” He explained, snagging one of his throw blankets to wrap around House to keep him warm. Wilson had to admit, though, that this little version of House was absolutely adorable. He settled the child onto the couch with the blanket wrapped around him, before sitting beside House and flipping on the television.

In an effort to be nice, Wilson obligingly handed the remote to House so he could pick the channel they watched while they waited for the food. “I’m going to try and sneak you into the hospital tomorrow…I’ll see if I can borrow something from one of my neighbors. She has a son your age, I think.” He said after a moment, before sighing and rubbing his temples at the list of these he had to take care of. “And I need to find a cane you can actually use now that you’re basically the size of your old one...I don’t think I can carry you everywhere.” It shouldn’t be too hard, considering they worked at the hospital. There were plenty of stores that sold that kind of stuff near there, so Wilson hoped it would be too hard.

Of course, as much of a hassle as it was, Wilson was willing to do it. House was his best friend, and one of the people Wilson cared for most. He was startled out of his thoughts by the doorbell. They were fast today, and Wilson appreciated it. He was starving, and he figured House probably was too. Snagging thirty bucks from his wallet, Wilson paid the delivery guy and brought the food back to the couch. He handed House one of the takeout containers containing his moo shoo pork, before taking his own box. Wilson paused before taking a bite, glancing toward his friend as a thought occurred to him. “You probably don’t have the dexterity for chopsticks anymore.” He said, heaving himself upward.

Wilson grabbed a fork from one of his drawers, handing it to House with a small smile. “The things I do for you, House.” He said with a teasing tone, and the interaction was so familiar, Wilson felt some of the tension he felt diffuse away. He finally took a bite of food, relishing the warmth. “Are you warm enough?” Wilson asked, even though the blanket practically swallowed the little frame.

[Nene]

Of course the de-aged diagnostician would have a way around those troubles and he leaned back to rest with the pillows. "... Cuddy doesn't have to know anything." he began, and he'd considered his words as he'd thought of his team and the conference room. "There are blinds in my office and the com...con... con-fer..." House blew a raspberry, "con'frence room." he appeared incredibly perplexed as he'd not done that since way back when he would be a little one the first time.

He'd forgotten all about the pizza he'd left in his refrigerator at home when Wilson made the decision to order Chinese, appearing pleased that Wilson had paid attention to him when he made his orders and had recalled his favorite. House yawned and rubbed those sleepy baby blues, and his bottom lip wobbled when Wilson gently felt his forehead, taking care not to touch that nasty bump and commented that he'd had a fever. "How long was I out there...?" came House's little voice, though he actually hadn't cared for an answer that Wilson likely didn't have. Worn out and unwell from all that had happened that evening, House only desired to be all wrapped in a warm blanket so he could be comfortable, eat, then nap a while.

It would be a while until House had gotten over the surrealism of anyone scooping him up and carrying him away. House lay his head to rest on Wilson's shoulder as Wilson scooped him up and carried him from the bedroom to the living room, and he would be a happy House when Wilson took care to wrap him in a soft throw. Grown House would be tall enough for a throw of this length to leave his feet uncovered, and he would be amazed at the blanket covering all of him.

Happily taking the television remote from Wilson, House nestled under the blanket comfortably and switched the channel to something a lot more interesting, something to do with monster trucks and demolition derby. "That's an idea, but don't come back with something cute and cuddly." came House's response to Wilson telling him of his neighbor's son that they could borrow clothes from. When the topic went from clothes to canes, House thought carefully. "At the risk of looking like Tiny Tim, it's gotta be a cane, not a crutch, and be like my ... my old cane." he specified; he'd had to use a crutch on multiple occasions when his cane would be damaged or broken and at any age he'd preferred a cane, no matter the difficulty in finding one to suit his needs.

House looked to the door when the doorbell rang and he happily awaited his moo shoo pork, however when he took the box and the chopsticks in hand, he appeared irritable as he hadn't the dexterity for the chopsticks anymore. "Oh, come on," he whined and when Wilson stood to get him a fork, he complained, though it sounded more playful than upset. "That's not how you're s'posed to eat Chinese." despite his words against the fork, he would have to use the fork if he'd wanted to get the food to his mouth. House took the fork and took a bite of the moo shoo pork, smiling as no matter how young or old he would be, it would remain his favorite.

"Oh, you love me," House responded to the playful teasing. "I'm okay," House told Wilson with a nod at the question, and he sat upright and ate happily, still wrapped in that nice warm blanket.

[LadyLoki]

Hearing House try and pronounce conference room had brought a smile to Wilson’s face, because it was just too cute. House made for an adorable child, the oncologist had to admit. The little boy seemed warm and content while wrapped up in a blanket, and Wilson was happy to let House settle there. He hadn’t known how long House had been out, since he had been completely caught off guard by the child’s unconscious form. Of course House would have specific demands for his cane, Wilson wasn’t surprised by the request.

“Unfortunately you’re going to be relegated to forks until we can figure out what’s wrong with you.” Wilson said, as they both dug into the delicious food. “I might love you, doesn’t mean you can’t be a brat.” He teased, because it was even more poignant since House was now a child. It was getting late when they finally finished eating, and Wilson yawned before stretching a little bit. “I think we need to be getting to bed, since I have to go to work and we need to figure out what the hell happened to you.” Wilson said, standing up and once again picking House up and settling the little boy on his hip. He didn’t feel right leaving a seven year old on the couch to sleep, especially because House couldn’t walk without a cane. Wilson would have taken the couch himself, but it still didn’t solve the problem that House couldn’t come get him if he needed him.

The bed was a little damp on one side, so after settling House carefully on an armchair he had in the corner of the room, Wilson changed the sheets so the problem would be at least a little alleviated. Even so, the oncologist took the side that had a slightly damp imprint. “Oh right…the fever reducers.” Wilson murmured, heading into the bathroom and riffling through the little medicine cabinet. He broke one of the tablets in half, and handed it to House along with a glass of water. “Take that, your fever should be gone by tomorrow or so.”

With everything ready for bed, Wilson settled House onto the bed on the other side. Kids needed more sleep than adults did, and Wilson was slightly concerned it was already a little late for a seven year old to be sleeping. Wilson could only imagine the tantrum House would have if he was informed that he needed a bedtime, and it made him chuckle just a little bit. “Maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow and this was just a dream.” He murmured, almost to himself. Wilson tucked House’s little form under the blankets, making sure that the chilled body was going to be kept warm. He grabbed some pajama pants and a shirt, heading into the bathroom to change. Wilson reappeared, and turned out the light, carefully edging his way over to the bed. He settled under the warm covers himself, letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Good night House.” Wilson said softly, before closing his eyes. “Wake me up if you need anything.” He added after a moment, before sleep eventually claimed it. The alarm went off the next morning like clockwork, and Wilson sat up with a jolt. A quick glance to the side brought out the realization that he hadn’t dreamed the incident. House was indeed the size of a small seven-year old boy, and Wilson let out a soft sigh. He reached over and gently nudged the small form. “Come on House, it’s time to wake up.” Wilson encouraged, because from what he could remember about being around small kids, they didn’t like waking up early if they didn’t want to. “We gotta get ready for work.”

He swung his legs out of bed, before stretching and rubbing his eyes. Wilson realized he had to catch his neighbors before they left for work, and grabbed his robe before heading out. He returned with the cutest pair of overalls and a little blue shirt…perfect fit for a seven year old…it was just a matter of getting House to wear them. “I got you some clothes.” Wilson smiled, offering them to the little boy. “Not perfect, but they’ll fit.”