Gregory House and James Wilson versus Sherlock Holmes and John Watson

Who's more popular: the copies or the original?This fight is a battle of pop culture versus literary classics. Greg House and James Wilson are friends on the television show House, MD, which is an excellent medical drama as long as the writers don’t get too caught up in obnoxious and boring side plots. House is a vicodin addicted asshole who has a bum leg, and Wilson is an oncologist who spends more time psychoanalyzing the people around him than actually treating cancer patients. Going against them are Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, the famous detective duo. Holmes and Watson are actually the basis for the House-Wilson friendship, but I don’t remember Watson ever getting pissed off and walking out on his friend after Holmes ODed on oxycodone.

Round One:
Since I don’t have any idea how this fight occurs, we’ll do one of the steel cage matchups originally introduced in George W. Bush versus Al Gore. We’ll get the sidekick characters out of the way first. Wilson and Watson take each other on in the squared circle, and it doesn’t take a medical doctor to figure out who’s going to win. Watson is a veteran of the British military, and has served on the front lines in Afghanistan, albeit as a doctor. Still, he knows what battle looks like, and he’s had his share of enar-death experiences, which has only served to toughen him up. Wilson, on the other hand, has a cushy job as the Head of Oncology at Princeton Providence Hospital. However, the TV show has never shown him actually doing anything as an oncologist. Oh, sure, he’s had patients who got screen time, but only to die. (And, in one case, to have sex with him and then die.) Wilson has also had plenty of times when he wasn’t able to notice enormous tumors in patients. His true skill lies in psychoanalyzing people and trying but failing to get people to cope with their problems. He tries to psychoanalyze Watson and point out his inferiority complex when it comes to Holmes. What his dull as a spoon powers of perception fail to pick up, though, is that he can’t speak because Watson is strangling him with the chain of his pocketwatch. Watson doesn’t kill Wilson – hippocratic oath an all that – but he does deprive him of oxygen long enough to render Jimmy unconscious and incapable of continuing the fight. Round One goes to Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

Round Two:
The next part of the bout pits House and Holmes against one another. Most people would feel bad about beating up a cripple, but Holmes remains coolly detached as always. House isn’t exactly nimble, and unlike Holmes he doesn’t know the first thing about fighting. All he really knows how to do is nearly kill patients before miraculously coming up with the right diagnosis at the last possible second. However, he is a cranky old man who is seriously addicted to drugs and has to deal with dying nerves in his leg every day. As a result, his pain threshhold on a scale of 1 to 10 is approximately 374, and he can take anything Holmes dishes out. Additionally, House isn’t a British gentleman, or any kind of gentleman for that matter. He fights dirty — he kicks with his one good leg, he scratches, and he bites. Holmes staggers back to Watson’s corner and tags out. All the while, House has his teeth firmly sunk into his foe’s ankle. Round Two goes to Gregory House and James Wilson.

Round Three:
House gets to his feet. Wilson regains consciousness in time for the final round, and the tide of the battle seems to have turned. Then House realizes that it’s been a whole hour since he had his last Vicodin. He pulls out his bottle of pills, but Holmes knocks it away, sending the sweet narcotic goodness outside the cage. House starts going through withdrawal, and collapses. Instead of helping, Wilson does what he does best and gets all pissy at House for daring to have extensive muscle and nerve damage. He preaches about how House thinks his bum leg gives him a license to be an asshole to everybody, and then says House doesn’t really need Vicodin. House points out that chronic pain usually requires chronic use of painkillers. Meanwhile, Holmes and Watson clean up while the two doctors are having their lover’s spat. Wilson doesn’t notice what’s going on until he’s already unconscious, because he’s frikkin’ clueless. House does realize what’s going on, but is too busy going through withdrawal to care. He welcomes sweet, blissful unconsciousness, because it’s the only thing that will help take his mind off of his lust for sweet, sweet opiates. Round Three and the match go to Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

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