Some day, this will be a "Last.fm/NetFlix/Amazon for web fiction" (both original and fanfiction) where you can search across many different hosting sites or rate what you've read and get recommendations. However, life keeps throwing more urgent projects my way, so I don't know when it'll be ready.
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3415504/22/James dramatically threw himself down onto a couch that had been pulled into the middle of the room, away from the wall. Ink marked up the wall where House had written a list of symptoms. James looked them over without much interest.
"So. . . Has anyone noticed that there is a psycho man with a gun in the room?" James asked.
"Yes," House said, "but we were more focused on the ill psycho with a gun, thanks. You know, the one actually threatening to kill us all."
"Are you calling me psycho?" James asked.
"Are you saying he has a gun?" the gunman asked. He varied between pointing the gun at James, and aiming it at House.
"I am calling him psycho. He stole my cane. As for the gun, I don't know. Lat time someone waved a gun in here, Potter here shot the poor bastard," House said.
"You're a dick, House," James snapped. "You are so not getting a Christmas card now."
"Are you quite alright, Potter?" House asked. "You're usually not so amusing."
"I'm having an off day."
"Hey! Can we get back to the problem at hand?" demanded the gunman.
"Needy little twat, aren't you?"
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