Name: Helping Case.

Writer: Ann.

Fandom: House/Sherlock Crossover.

Rating: PG13.

Timeline: House- S7, still in Huddy time. Sherlock- After 2X01.

All rights for House reserved to Fox and the creators and all rights for Sherlock reserved to the BBC. I don't own anything (unfortunately).

Prologue.

June 3rd, 2001

"I gave that speech. Can we go now? This conference is more boring than Wilson's cousin."

"Hey!" Wilson seemed slightly annoyed.

"Come on," House replied as the three walked out of the conference hall, "We both know she's one of the most boring people on this planet. Remind me again why I'm here?" He asked, turning to Cuddy.

"Because," Cuddy's voice was patient, "You're a head of department at Princeton Plainsboro, even If you're barely doing anything with it. Just like every other head of department in the hospital, you're here to get better as a doctor."

"Give me a puzzle, that'll make me a better doctor! I even prefer doing clinic hours over going to a conference in Rainville." He retorted, ignoring Cuddy's doubting look. He never liked going to conferences, simply because he was too well known, and therefore he had to interact with way more people than he would have liked.

"I thought you liked London." Wilson sounded slightly confused.

"I do." House's voice was once again low.

"Then what's the problem?"

The only problem with coming to London for the conference was the city's problematic weather. Ever since they arrived to London three days earlier it was raining. It has not even stopped for long enough for House to drive to the Thames, a half an hour drive from the hotel. He loved London, but the non-stopping rain drove him nuts. Especially when it meant he had to remain at the conference. True, he spent some of the conference time with Wilson at the hotel's bar, but he still had to be present at more lectures than he wanted to be in.

"The damn rain," He murmured, not noticing his right hand that immediately started rubbing his right leg.

"That's London." A man said behind them. He was British, clearly one of London's citizens. He had blue-grey eyes which indicated wisdom and curly dark hair that gave him a slightly boyish look. He did not look like a doctor, but he appeared to have a doctor's badge, and so all shook his hand. "Doctor Holmes," He introduced himself after the three introduced themselves.

"What's your specialty?" House asked, ignoring Wilson and Cuddy's attempts to stop him. They should have already known he asks what he wants to ask, no matter what others say. Besides, that Holmes guy intrigued him. For some reason he felt a need to ask as much as he could about him.

A small smile crossed Holmes' face. "I'm a diagnostician," He replied quietly.

For the first time since they arrived the conference, House's eyes lit up. He had already met a few Nephrologists and a few Infectious experts, but none of them interested him more than a few minutes, nor did any of them want to talk to him for more than that, not after all he told them about themselves and the way he said that. But during the first two days of the conference House did not find even one man who truly seemed to interest him, especially not a fellow diagnostician. Most hospitals around the world have yet to realize how important such department is.

"Call me Greg," House briefly smiled at him, his pure blue eyes still focused on the other man. He was intent on learning everything he could on the other man, but from his appearance all he could learn was that he was single and absolutely not a doctor. The latter did not show on the way he behaved, but on the small things only House had noticed- his slight, millisecond hesitation before talking about medicine, the way there was not one lecture circled in the conference's paper he was carrying and yet he appeared on most of them, and the way he seemed to be looking for someone specific. The last one did not exactly show him he was not a medical doctor, but he had a hunch it was related to it.

"Sherlock." As if they were sharing the same mind, they both turned towards the bar.

"I did my lecture," House called back towards Wilson and Cuddy, "I'm done here. Find me when we leave for our flight."

November 11th, 2010

John woke up to the sound of a violin. He listened carefully, trying to determine his friend's mood by the way he played his violin. The violin did not sound relaxed, and so he realized he still hasn't found the solution to the mystery he was currently working on. It did not seem like a complicated investigation to Sherlock at first, but it appeared he was wrong. John could not help but be happy that he did not turn back to his gun. As lovely as the smiley on the wall was, he preferred the walls the way they were.

He walked downstairs to find Sherlock on the sofa, playing his violin as he had heard. His eyes were closed, yet he clearly noticed John's entrance. "Can you get me my phone?" He asked, not even bothering with 'good morning'. John looked around for a moment before locating the cellphone on the table in the kitchen. He quickly brought it to Sherlock, who stopped playing the violin and turned to his cellphone. "Thanks."

"How's the investigation going?" John asked as he sat down in one of the chairs.

"I'm stuck." Sherlock sounded slightly frustrated. "I'm going to need help."

That sentence surprised him. He had never heard Sherlock admitting he needs help solving a case. He was usually the helper, not the one who needed help. "Who are you calling?" John asked as he noticed Sherlock's phone was already by his ear as he waited for someone to pick up the phone on the other side.

Sherlock ignored him. "Doctor House?" He asked. "It's Doctor Holmes." John looked at him questioningly, only to be ignored. "What do you see we'll meet for a drink?"