It's after hours in the Psychology wing, and House is up to no good. He asks a janitor to let him into a therapist's office, claiming he left his cane in there during a session. The janitor is reluctant until House plays the "poor crippled me!" card, which supersedes the ridiculousness of someone who needs a cane to walk leaving it somewhere and only realizing his mistake hours after the fact. The janitor lets House into the office.
Cameron drinks red wine and reads a book about how to get the hell over one's self and become a member of society who doesn't feel the need to personally identify with every single thing that happens and use it to justify doing something horrible and potentially dangerous like breaking doctor-patient confidentiality rules. Just kidding! She's wallowing in her sadness and looking at her wedding photos, of course. She looks right past her Poor Dead Husband and focuses on hunky best man Joe.
Wilson appears to be spending the night on his office couch, because his wife apparently kicked him out and he can't afford a hotel room even though he's a freaking doctor. He reads a baseball magazine, because if we're going to do an episode about athletes who cheat by using drugs, we can't leave those guys out.
Amazingly, that janitor isn't even bothering to watch House while he's in the office to make sure House doesn't do anything like, oh, say, read the therapist's private patient files. At least he isn't reporting their contents to Time, though. The file cabinet is locked, but House easily finds a trigger at the bottom of the cabinet that opens the drawers. I guess Cuddy spent all of Jeff's donations on some more windows instead of on file cabinets that are more secure than paper bags. Or hiring janitors who aren't complete morons. Or doctors who aren't morally bankrupt. House finds the file he's looking for: Warner, Stacy. He opens it and reads. I'm thinking it says something like "patient isn't smart enough to seek help from a professional who isn't affiliated with the hospital her extremely nosy ex-boyfriend is a doctor at." Solomon Burke sings about freedom and chains in a song probably wasn't originally intended to be about three asshole doctors who would rather hurt the people around them than come to terms with their own problems. But it'll do.