Extra weekly chapter because st Sunday I couldn't publish a chapter.

  ---

  If before, during the day, people tried and fail not to be too obvious when they saw me and talked about me, what remained of the school day ractically torture. Wherever I looked, many of my cssmates, now pletely shameless, poi me and discussed me. Even during css, I could sense a hint of i in some of the looks the teachers gave me.

  Enduring and trying to ighe vast majority of my cssmates' attention, the school day ended. After saying goodbye to my friends, passing through the gazes of the people I entered, I quickly walked to 'Debbie,' almost immediately leaving the school grounds.

  As the day before, I arrived much earlier than Mom at the hospital since her car wasn't parked in its usual spot again. After greeting Mom's fellow nurses, I walked to House's office, where only he was, leaning ba his chair, reading a opolitan magazih a woman in a swimsuit on the cover, totally calm and shameless.

  "How are the babies?" I asked first upoering the office.

  "Safe and sound," House replied disiedly, not taking his attention off his magazine. "Oh, you're upset," sarcastically remarked House, finally tearing his attention away from the magaziill held in his hands. "Something tell me I'd be fifty dolrs richer," leaving the magazine on his desk, House leaned forward, narrowing his eyes with a strange smile.

  Annoyed, I took a fifty-dolr bill from my wallet before handing it over to the now smiling man, who intensely began iing the bill, even sniffing it.

  "How did you know?" trying not to show embarrassment about the bet, I asked.

  "Oh," abruptly stopping iing the bill, House falsely excimed, "your expression when you saw me. There were two possibilities: someoold you something that may or may not be true about your mother and me in one of the closets," sarcastically House quickly said, "or you were upset because you lost a bet with me." He tinued speaking with obviousness, "It was fifty-fifty," he said amusingly, bang his hands.

  "That's not it," I said exasperatedly. "How did you know what Regina was going to do?" I asked curtly.

  "Who?" with exaggerated i, House asked.

  "My girlfriend," I said, "ex-girlfriend," I immediately corrected myself.

  "Oh, the beautiful cheerleader," House said amusedly, leaning ba his chair again. "I'll tell you, but it es with a price," sarcastically, House tinued, shaking the bill in his hand as he propped his feet on the desk in front of him.

  "Alright, don't tell me," leaving my backpa one of the free hooks o the bookcase, I said before trying to leave the doctor's office to go to the library.

  "Tell me how it happened, and I'll tell you how I knew," before I could reach the office door, House said.

  "What?" I asked, not uanding.

  "How it happened, you know, she yelled at you in a , or outside of school when everyone was leaving, how did it happen?" amusedly House asked.

  Standing in front of the man, in my head, I quickly weighed the pros and s of actually telling him how things happened. Everyo school knew, and that made people see me as if I were an animal in the zoo. If I told House, I would only give him bullets to embarrass me even outside of school.

  "Okay," ign the obvious problems this could cause me iure, I took a seat oher side of the man, summarizing the situation.

  "Ah, a public execution," finishing my at, House excimed amusedly, "my favorite show."

  "Yes, yes, now tell me," trying to abruptly cut his amusement, I excimed.

  "You really have no idea, it's even sad," studying my expression, House said, "how I put it so you uand?" looking at the ceiling of his office, House preteo think for a few seds, "ah, I know," he said, getting up and walking to his board, dragging it to the ter of the office.

  "Differential diagnosis," writing as he spoke, House poio the phrase, "what do we do whery to diagnose a patient?" House asked.

  "Write down their symptoms and treat them," not uanding where the versation was going, I said.

  "That's what doctors do," ptuously, House said, "you and I seek a retionship beyond the symptoms and the patient," House said, writing more things on the board that, because he was in the middle, I couldn't see. "Don't ftter yourself and think I'm praising you. You still have a long way to go if you want to be at least half as good as me," without turning, House said mogly.

  "Oh no, how could I even think of being as good at diagnosing as the incredible Dr. House," with exaggerated sarcasm, I excimed, "I'm gd you uand," House quickly retorted.

  "Have I ever taught you what you should do to diagnose someone in the ic without reading their file?" House turo me, narrowing one of his eyes.

  "Observe," I said, remembering what he had shown me many days ago, as well as the little notebook I still carried with me.

  "Exactly," with fake excitement, House excimed, pointing at me, "what you did with that little notebook, which I hope you still use, was an exercise for you to practisciously a patient," House expined calmly, "what magazine was I reading?" he suddenly asked.

  "opolitan," I replied without a problem, "but anyone could have seen that," I tered his point.

  "Oh yes, anyone could have seen the magazine, but not observed it," sinisterly, House said, "what color was the bikini?" he asked again, smiling suggestively.

  "Bck," somewhat embarrassed by the nature of the question, I replied.

  "Very few people would have remembered actually that detail," seriously, House said as he nodded, "although you're a hormonal teenager, so it might just be of great io you," the man added ironically, "so tell me, did the model wear a bracelet, and on which hand?" House asked again, this time much more serious, leaning on his e.

  "Right hand," surprised by the question and especially by how I actually k, I took a few seds to respond.

  Certainly, striving to sciously observe people had made me start to unsciously observe them at some point. But even if I were developing a useful skill for diagnosing patients much more effectively, I didn't uand the e with his ability to guess Regina's as.

  "I don't uand what this has to do with—" I was saying, "speak only when I tell you, we're almost there," House rudely interrupted.

  "So, the first step in diagnosing is ," House listed, "during the observation process, you gather data. The patient's nose is irritated, one of their pupils is dited, they limp on one of their legs, they have a weak grip with their dominant hand, bh bh bh," House tinued with disdain.

  "The first rule is that you really 't know anything if you only remember isoted data and try to use it," House asserted, "if the data don't rete to a diagnosis, you have no way to use them, right?" he asked arrogantly.

  "But to use this data in a real diagnosis, you o have prior medical knowledge, which for now you strangely have," ironically, House tinued, "unlike your embarrassingly ck of social knowledge. Do you have any friends to hang out with after school?" mog, House added.

  "Okay, House, thanks for the lecture. If it was just luck, you could have said it," tired of his tinuous insults, I said.

  "You know how to diagnose b diseases, flu, human parasites that people call babies, iions, and a bunch of other things. I've taught you, and I've seen you do it," raising his hand to silence me, House said, "but your incredibly poor social skills don't allow you to diaghe most fun of all, at least not sciously," exaggerating mystery in his words, House tinued.

  "The Lie," after a few seds that House surely used to create a suspenseful atmosphere, the limping doctor said, moving away from the front of the board to reveal various words.

  "Yes, yes, everybody lies," annoyed by the sarcasti's games, I cut him off.

  "That's a great motto. Who taught you that?" House said sarcastically. "whoever the mastermind was who said that was right. Everybody lies, but very few of us know how to diagnose a lie," obviously amused by the idea of giving a lecture, House tinued speaking.

  "Lies, like any other diseases, have types. There are many, but for today's css, we'll only be ied in the following," pointing to the board, House said, "btant, exaggeration, omission, and utilitarian," emphasizing the st one.

  "Your cheerleader put on quite a show of a utilitariahe man affirmed, amused, "but we're not there yet."

  "Like any disease, with lies, there are symptoms one observes when diagnosing," House calmly said. "There are the easy oo observe: body nguage, whether their posture is open or closed, defensive or rexed, eye tact, involuntary tics while speaking," House tinued, writing in another se of the board.

  "Incredible analogy, House, but you never met Regina yourself," I stopped the man sharply.

  "And that's why I said those were the easy ones," smiling sinisterly, House said, "the difficult ones are things you observe when they're not aware, things you firmed to me. People's behavior in her presehe way they i with her inner circle, simple things like where they choose to sit give you so much data you use."

  "You firmed to me that she's popur, therefore many people in your school are aware of her when she walks the school halls with at least two panions always by her side, she sits at the tral table in the cafeteria, and she's a cheerleader, so her main job is to attract attention," House affirmed. "With all that data, I , and then you , diagypical case of attention-seeking behavior."

  "And what if you're wrong?" I asked abruptly. "Also, how you tell if it's a lie?"

  "Didn't you hear what I told Cameroerday?" irritated, House said, "we stick with our diagnoses until something makes us ge our minds," House repeated. "And knowing if it's a lie or not, simply on sense," he said obviously.

  "Now, all these types of lies have some on symptoms," House tinued, returning to the topic. "They want to divert your attention from what they're seeking. A btant liar says something that is pletely different from the truth. Yesterday's patient, the woman with the human parasite, she's going to btantly lie to her husband about her pregnancy," he exemplified.

  "Like you," pointing to the man, I affirmed.

  "Oh no, like your cheerleader, I give utilitarian lies," with total ck of shame, House said, "but that's not the one," lightly tapping the board, House added, "lies by exaggeration are when facts are exaggerated or minimized, for example when your mom tells you that you look handsome."

  "Or like when Dr. Wilson says you're not a bad person altogether," I said.

  "Wilson says that?" falsely offended, House asked, "I o talk to him."

  "The one is the lie by omission," pointing to the one on the board, House said, "it's the most on one we face. They give you the truth, but not the whole truth," House tinued, "for example, the idiots who thought it prudent not to tell us their son ted."

  After finishing, House looked at me puzzled for a few seds. "No witty ent for this one?" he asked.

  "Oh, sorry, I didn't think of one," I said, making House nod.

  "Lastly, in this css," straightening his bad exaggerating his tone, House tinued, "utilitarians lie to take advantage of situations, purely selfish reasons," House said shamelessly, adding, "shedding fake tears when a rge part of the student popution is present and screaming to firm what's happening, that, kid, is the definition of a utilitarian liar with attention-seeking behavior."

  Everything House had said hit me with a heavy dose of reality. Seeing lying as a disease that be diagnosed was something only House would do. I reize my own ability for diagnosing patients, I practiced hundreds of hours in my past life and possibly also in this ohout realizing it, it's something I now do unsciously.

  "So, what am I supposed to do?" after pletely abs everything House said, I asked.

  "I'm not your father to tell you what to do," sarcastically, House said, taking the eraser to the words on the board.

  "No, but you yourself said that lies are a disease, there must be a treatment," pying with his analogy, I said.

  Sighing, House walked back to his chair after putting the board ba pce, "what do you wao tell you, something poetic like the only treatment is the truth?" he asked ironically, "I enjoy hitting idiots in the face with the truth. You do whatever you want," opening one of his drawers, House pulled out another small notebook identical to the one he had given me before, "you know what this is for," he tinued, dropping the small notebook on the desk, "now go, I have a date with Aline," opening his magazine again, House said, putting his feet ba the desk.

  Amused by the man's a I took the notebook from the desk before leaving the man's office, I walked to the hospital library to learn with the videos many more iing surgical procedures.

  "Dun!" halfway to the library in one of the corridors, my name was suddenly shouted, "Mr. Stratford," turning to discover who called me, I found the man surprisingly not looking upset. This time he seemed embarrassed.

  "PJ," when he was close enough, much kihan I remembered any iion with him, he said, "I wao talk to you," adding to my theory of his embarrassment, the man seemed uo maintain eye tact with me. Feeling the small notebook that House had given me, I thought, why not start now.

  Keeping silent to allow the man to speak, I waited a few short seds before apparently Mr. Stratfathered ce. "I wao apologize to you," this time managing to maintain eye tact, the man said without hesitation, pletely fag me.

  "It wasn't fair how I treated you before. It's just that Dr. Cuddy talked to all of us about your presen House's department, and I thought you would be like him..." the man tinued with difficulty describing House.

  "Arrogant and rude," I said.

  "Yes, arrogant, rude, unpleasant, annoying," the man became increasingly angry as he listed, "but I had the ce to talk to the nurse from the maternity ward," seeing my expression, the man trolled himself before saying.

  "Brenda," I remihe doctor of the woman's name, "yes, Brenda, and she only had good things to say about you, like many other nurses. So when I got home, I discreetly asked Kat about you, and she holds you in high esteem as a good friend," the man tinued.

  "Yes, and I do too. Kat and I are just good friends," I crified to the man.

  "That's why I wao apologize to you," formally raising his hand, the man asked for a handshake that I gdly accepted, "don't worry, Mr. Stratford, I uand where your came from. House is not a very good person."

  "No, he's not," Mr. Stratfreed, "but unfortunately, he's a good doctor, and as long as you only learn medie from him, it will be useful for your future," looking around before saying anything else, Mr. Stratford admitted.

  "Yeah," I said in agreement.

  "By the way, I heard you mao solve the case of the babies. It was a great discovery about the stuffed animals," kindly, Mr. Stratford said, "how did you figure it out?" he asked, ied.

  "," I responded after a few seds.

  ---

  Author's Thoughts:

  As always, I'm not Ameri, I'm not a doctor, and I'm not Sherloes.

  One of my favorite literary characters is Sherloes, a character that House was obviously based on. Searg for information about this a long time ago, I came across an article from a uy where they expihe theoretical process that Holmes uses for dedu. This chapter is my attempt to describe what I remember from that article (I don't remember the title, but it had something to do with what our brain ignores and what Holmes theoretically does not).

  Perhaps someone might find it surprising the idea of House expining everything he did and giving small pliments to the MC, but it's an AU of a fanfi; to begin with, and House in my story, as many may have already noticed due to the obviousness of the matter, serves as a menture for the MC, so I'll use it.

  I also must say that everything about lies was taken from my imagination; it seemed like an ad hoalogy with House.

  With that said,

  I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

  Thank you for reading! :D

  PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.