Where's Weir?

Just at the moment there is an ominous pause in House activity. Residents seem to be still suffering from some kind of torpor, possibly induced by the over indulgence in Easter eggs, or the desire to bury themselves deep in their hooks crying with the poet: "Hence vain deluding joys, etc," This is very laudable (the study, not the gluttony) but the slacking of corporate life is a serious matter, even if only for several weeks, and unless somebody does something soon, Weir is liable to acquire some semblance of respectabillty. A shocking thought.