EXTRACT FOR
The Adventure of The Martian War
(Doug Murray)
PUBLISHER’S FOREWORD
For the
purists among you who believe that no author other than the much-famed Sir Arthur
Conan Doyle has the right to write about the adventures of the great Sherlock
Holmes, this foreword is for you. In the UK in the
year 2000 a court ruling made the character of Holmes and the writings of the
author, public domain, meaning anyone could write books such as the one you are
about to read. A ruling in
the US in 2013 has had much the same effect in that country. For those interested in such matters we would
refer you to the following articles:- So with great
admiration for those who have gone before, for those who will doubtless come
after and without more ado… AUTHOR’S NOTE
To all
of you who have the power to read and the strength of mind to care. It has
been drawn to my attention that, with her Majesty’s government decreeing that
this document be treated as ‘Most Secret’ for some time to come, many of those
who read it will have already been exposed to another, quite different, account
of the Martian Invasion in London—the account rendered by Mr. Wells in his
best-selling novel, ‘The War of the Worlds’. Mr.
Well’s book, while entertaining, is, for the most part, a fiction ordered by
the same government that is withholding this account. They believe—and I am forced to concur—that
the world is not at this time ready for the true and quite horrid details of
what happened during the brief period when Martians roamed the streets of
London and preyed upon its citizens. Hundreds
of thousands of people lost their lives and many who survived, did so by simply
hiding until the Invasion was crushed. It is
my hope that those who survived, and their descendants, will be ready for the
true facts of this Invasion after one hundred years have passed. Time is a great healer, and, one can hope, a
hundred years can heal a great deal. I can
only hope that those of you reading this are capable of understanding the
reason for the secrecy—and are, at the same time, strong enough to comprehend
the true horrors of that time. I also hope
that there has been no further occurrence of the events noted within. John
H. Watson, M.D. CHAPTER ONESherlock
Holmes sighed as he opened the door to the common room and found his friend and
room-mate, Dr. Watson, at breakfast. “You’re
up early, Watson. I had thought your
late night might have caused you to sleep in today.” “Woke
up early today, Holmes.” Watson dabbed
his toast into the yolk of an egg. “Felt
Too hungry to go back to sleep.” He
looked at Holmes Gladstone bag. “Where
are we off to, Holmes?” He
pushed away from the table allowing Holmes to see that a bit of egg yolk had
landed on his friend’s tie. “I can
be ready in just a few minutes…” ““I
know you are quite busy in your surgery, my friend,” Holmes noted holding up a
hand. “And as my business is in no way
pressing, I thought I’d go on this expedition alone.” The tall man pulled a magazine from his
jacket pocket and tossed it onto the table, nearly upsetting Watson’s coffee
cup. “Have you seen the latest issue of
NATURE?” “Why, no.”
Watson settled back into his chair and peered at the thick magazine
before him. “It’s not on my regular
subscription list…” “Look
here,” Holmes opened to a dogeared page.
“The astronomers at the Lick Observatory say they have observed a great
burst of light on the planet Mars!” “I
thought you knew nothing of such matters,” Watson replied, puzzled by his
friend’s interest. “I have
not needed this sort of information in the past, but recently, I have been corresponding
with Perrotin of Nice on another matter,” he shrugged. “In the course of that correspondence, the
good Doctor was kind enough to inform me of the sighting of this ‘light’ and
its possible significance.” “Significance?”
“Not
yet apparent,” Holmes waved the thought away with a too-innocent smile. Watson
didn’t notice, being intent on his breakfast he let the detective continue. “However,
on his advice, I have decided to do a bit of research. I shall journey to… “Holmes half-lifted the
magazine. “Ottershaw, where I will have
a chat with Ogilvy, the chief astronomer there.” The tall man straightened and turned toward
the door. “At the very least it will
give me the opportunity to study the so-called ‘red planet’ through the observatory’s
great telescope.” He shrugged. “I know it means nothing, but as there is no
interesting crime in London at the moment, I am bored. He opened the door. “I will tell you everything upon my return.” *** A few
hours later, Holmes began to wonder if it was wise to give Watson his promise
to report all. The window of his
first-class compartment showed the English countryside flashing by at quite a
rapid rate—he had calculated that they were making at least thirty miles to the
hour—quite fast for such a backwater route. Holmes
wondered if he should mention the shocking speed when he did speak to Watson
again. It’s good that we are moving so fast. Homes thought., the scenery is quite boring… He
returned to his copy of NATURE and began, once again, to study the report on
the Martian disturbances. In a few hours, he thought. I
shall be with Professor Olgilvy and, if he cooperates, I will be able to find
out if any of my suspicions are correct.
Holmes
put the magazine down and gazed at the sun-lit English countryside rushing
by. He
sighed. But I fear that will not be the case. *** Professor
Olgilvy met Holmes at the station and took him back to his fine house. Holmes’ eyes were drawn to the oddly-shaped
building that held the Professor’s telescope but Olgilvy insisted that they
have dinner first. The
food was quite good, perfectly cooked and served by the Professor’s
housekeeper. Holmes congratulated her
and expressed his appreciation for the meal. Then
Olgilvy yielded to his guest’s curiosity and led him out to the home of his
powerful telescope, training it on the mysterious Red Planet that Holmes was so
interested in. Mars
red face was in the center of the telescope’s focus, quite clear, as Holmes
leaned into the eyepiece. “I see
the ‘canals’ I’ve heard so much about,” he reported. “They
are quite interesting,” Olgilvy replied.
“But I do not think they are ‘canals’ in the sense you mean.” The professor shrugged as Holmes glanced his
way. “That, Mr. Holmes, is a dead world.
No water, little air—not habitable in the way the word ‘canals’ suggests.” “I
see,” Holmes replied, eyes still on the telescope. “And the mysterious explosions that have been
so widely reported?” “I have
no explanation for them, Mr. Holmes.” He
smiled. “And they do not appear every
day.” He took a quick look into the
lens. “It might be best if we travelled
a few miles and visited Professor Pierson who has an even more powerful
telescope then this and has, himself, reported on several of the ‘explosions’
in question.” He nodded toward the
house. “That article in NATURE was, in
fact, his work” “Will
he welcome such a visit? I am, after
all, a stranger.” “You
are no stranger to any Englishman, Mr. Holmes.
Of that I am quite certain.” The good Professor smiled. “I will send a footman off with a message
straightaway and we will proceed to his home early tomorrow morning,” he looked
at Holmes. “At least, if such a plan is
agreeable to you?” “More
than agreeable.” The detective
nodded. “I am most indebted to you,
Professor.” “Tell
me that again,” the Professor smiled wryly.
“After you taste my cook’s biscuits!” The two
laughed as they made the short walk back to the Professor’s home. *** A few
minutes after midnight, Holmes was jolted awake by a roaring sound--not unlike
the sound made by a speeding train. His
first thought was that such a train had de-railed on the nearby railway, but he
quickly realized how impossible that would be and, fully awake, fought his way
clear of the unfamiliar covers and stumbled to the single window of the
Professor’s guest room. He saw
nothing at all and quickly realized that whatever had caused the noise was gone—and
he had missed the opportunity to see what it was. But perhaps not! He thought as he rushed downstairs, reaching
the kitchen just as Professor Ogilvy burst in.
“Did you see it, Professor?” he cried. “No,
Mr. Holmes.” The Professor shook his
head sadly. “It was gone before I could
reach a window.” “What
do you think it was?” “I
believe it must have been a meteorite—a rather large one.” He shrugged.
“With luck Professor Pierson will have seen it—he is often active late
into the night.” “Have
you heard back from him?” “Indeed,
we are welcome at his home at any time.”
The Professor glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Let us return to our beds—I would prefer to
travel after the sun has risen.” Holmes
nodded, “that would be my preference as well,” he replied and followed the
older man up the stairs, returning to his bed and firing up his pipe to think
about what he had learned. He got
no more sleep that night. *** The
trip to Professor Pierson’s laboratory was uneventful although longer than
expected due to the unusually large amount of traffic moving along what was, to
Holmes eye, a simple country road. Early
morning news told us that the object we had heard had, indeed, been a meteorite
and that it came to earth somewhere not far from our destination. “I’m
sure Pierson is already investigating,” Olgilvy told Holmes. “We may have to
journey directly to the crater.” “Whatever
you say, sir.” The great Detective
replied, watching the crowd around them.
“Whatever you think is right and proper.” Holmes nodded
to his side as a lightly-laden wagon sped past.
“What do you make of those vehicles?
They seem to be moving away from the excitement.” “People
fear what they do not understand, Mr. Holmes.”
He made a dismissive gesture.
“Surely you are aware of that.” Holmes
nodded and shrugged as they continued on.
Less than an hour later the two men reached the home of Professor
Pierson who, they soon learned, had been waiting for them. “Gentlemen,”
he called as we pulled up to his door.
“Please forgive this lapse in hospitality but, as I’m sure you know by
now, a large meteorite has come to earth quite nearby.” He gestured to the South. “I have waited for you before going to
examine it—but I cannot wait any longer.”
He smiled. “Would you care to
accompany me?” “Of
course!” Olgilvy gestured. “Come, join us in the carriage!” A
moment later, the three of them were moving with speed toward the meteorite’s
reported position. “Did
you see the meteorite as it passed overhead?”
Holmes asked. “Alas,
no.” He gestured with his hands—a
movement that revealed a rather blocky box-like device attached to his
belt. “I was asleep when it passed over
and did not awaken until after dawn.” “You
did not hear the explosion?” He
shrugged. “I fear that I am a very heavy
sleeper, Mr. Holmes,” He smiled in embarrassment. “Not a very useful trait for an Astronomer,
I’m afraid.” “Look!” Professor Olgilvy pointed to a spot about a
mile ahead of us. “That must be the
point of impact!” They all
peered forward to a point on which a number of carriages and other vehicles
were stopped by the side of the road. Holmes
could see people beyond the line of vehicles, gazing downward. “How big
a crater would you expect a meteorite of that size to leave?” He asked the two astronomers. “It
would depend…” Olgilvy muttered, leaning forward in an attempt to get a better
look. “Upon the size and mass of the
heavenly visitor.” “Meteorites
weighing tons have been found in the Americas,” Pierson put in. “I have been shown an image of a crater in the
western portion of the country that is said to be fifteen miles or more in
diameter.” At that
moment, their carriage came to a halt—blocked by those vehicles that had
arrived before. “Shall
we have a look, gentlemen” Holmes asked, opening the door. “Indeed!” Professor Olgilvy jumped down beside him. “I am more than anxious to see what we have
here.” “As am
I,” Pierson said, joining the other men.
Holmes noted that he kept a hand on the large metal device attached to
his belt. “Let us see what there is to
see.” The
three of them turned toward the crowd, pushing their way through until they
stood at the very edge of the crater itself. “Why,” Professor Olgilvy muttered a few
moments later. “This cannot be right!” “Why
not, Professor?” “Look
how big that meteorite is,” the three of us leaned closer, peering over the
wall of dirt and sand. A long
tear-shaped hole stood in front of us—one that was some twenty-feet deep. In the center of the hole stood what Holmes
assumed was the meteorite—a rather large oblate spheroid covered in dust and
dirt that lay neatly in the center, filling it nearly to capacity. “A
meteorite that size should have created a much larger crater—four or five times
this size at the least,” Olgilvy
turned to his right. “Isn’t that right,
Pierson?” “I would
have thought so,” the younger man nodded.
“I don’t know how…” “It
must have come in quite slowly,” Olgilvy reached out with his walking stick—but
was too far from the mass in the center of the pit to touch it. “Or it is very light—which would be unheard
of.” He looked at the two of us. “We must measure and weigh this as soon as
possible!” “It’s
far too hot, Professor.” Pierson pointed out.
“It will be some hours before anyone can get close enough for a proper
examination.” “I
agree,” Olgilvy stared at the meteorite.
“I would like to get my instruments as soon as possible. Would you,” glancing at Pierson. “Be kind enough to entertain Mr. Holmes until
I return? “It
would be my pleasure,” Pierson smiled at me.
“We can each get a nap and a good meal, refreshing ourselves against the
work to come.” “I will
drive to your home,” Olgilvy started back toward his carriage. “And endeavor to return before the sun sets!” True to
his word, the professor had his driver deliver us at the very door to Professor
Pierson’s home before departing—at a gallop—toward his own abode. “Come,
Mr. Holmes,” Pierson beckoned to me.
“Let us use the time we have wisely.” Holmes
smiled and nodded. Professor
Pierson’s home was much like that of Olgilvy, albeit somewhat smaller. Books on many subjects lined the walls of the
large den that stood just to the right of the entrance hall. Behind it was a rather small dining room attached
to a tiny kitchen. A central staircase
led to the second floor that sported four bathrooms and a washroom with, even
this far in the countryside, running water! Pierson
led the great detective up the staircase and opened a door near the remarkable
washroom. “Please
make yourself at home, Mr. Holmes.”
Pierson stopped for a moment, almost tittering as he realized the
near-joke he had made. “I think we
should both get a few hours sleep before returning to the pit. I will instruct my housekeeper to wake us
around half-past three so we can have a meal before we leave.” “That
sounds quite satisfactory.” Holmes
smiled and extended a hand around the den.
“Although I would love to have time to explore your library.” “Another
time, Mr. Holmes. You are always welcome
here.” He smiled. “Now I wish you a good rest,” he nodded down
the hall. “I will retreat to my own
bedroom for a time.” “Of
course,” Holmes bowed and entered the room.
“Until half-past three.” Pierson
smiled and shut the door behind him. Holmes
laid his Gladstone bag on the bed and looked around the room. It was snug but comfortable. After a moment’s thought, he took off his
coat, placed his bag on the floor at his side, and composed himself on the bed
which was, to be truthful, a bit short for one of Holmes stature. As he
relaxed, Holmes became aware of a noise down the hall—the sound of a
voice—Pierson’s voice. He
wondered if there was someone else there, having seen no one else upon his
entrance. Holmes
opened his own door a crack and listened more carefully. It was Pierson’s
voice for a certainty—but the other voice was very strange—almost mechanical… Holmes
left the room and moved silently down the hall until he could hear more
clearly—but the conversation ended before he reached what had to be Pierson’s door
and he was forced to retreat to his own room, pulling the door shut behind him
before lying down once again on the bed. There
were no more sounds. Time
passed and Holmes became certain that Pierson was asleep. Pulling off his shoes, he made his way
silently downstairs and into that book-lined den. He approached a large desk that dominated the
room. A moment’s work with one of his
lockpicks and he had found what he had expected—notes and diagrams of a highly
advanced sort. He
stowed them in his voluminous pockets. Below
them was a quite serviceable colt revolver. He took
a moment to render the little gun harmless, then, finding nothing else of
interest, returned to his room and, this time, allowed himself to fall asleep. *** Three-thirty
came very quickly. Holmes was roused by
Pierson’s call. He took a moment to wash
his face and hands in that remarkable washroom.
Then, refreshed, he put his shoes on, picked up his bag and joined his
current host at the dinner table downstairs. “I hope
you slept well, Holmes.” Pierson said by
way of greeting. “I did
hear some voices at first,” Holmes shrugged.
“Doubtless you giving your housekeeper her instructions.” “Yes,”
his brows rose. “That must have been
it.” He reached for a small bell on the
table. “We must hurry our meal—Professor
Olgilvy will be here soon and I want to get to the pit before he arrives.” Holmes
nodded and unfolded his napkin as a rather dense-looking woman put a plate in
front of him. “It’s
curried chicken,” Pierson informed Holmes as his own plate slid into
place. “Her specialty.” “Wonderful,”
Holmes took a spoonful, chewing carefully.
“Quite nice,” he told Pierson politely. In
truth, it was a meal that Mrs. Hudson would not have allowed to sully her
table—but this woman was in no way equal to Mrs. Hudson. Holmes
endeavored to eat the whole plate, realizing that he might need the energy the
meal would provide. A quite normal cup
of tea followed and the great detective was soon ready to continue his
adventure. “Are
you quite done, Pierson?” Holmes smiled
at the man as he sipped at his tea. “You
did want to beat Olgilvy to the site…” “Of
course,” The Professor took one last sip and stood. “It’s a short walk—we shall be there well
before the good doctor arrives.” He turned toward the door, turned its knob... “You’re
taking no instruments?” “Professor
Olgilvy will provide them and, believe me,” the Professor grinned and shook his
head. “His are far more numerous and
ingenious than anything I might be able to provide.” “I
don’t believe that for a second!” Holmes
turned to the door alongside him. “I
think you’re far more capable of ingenuity than the Professor.” “Thank
you, Mr. Holmes.” He pushed the door
open. “That means quite a lot coming
from you.’ A
moment later they were in the open strolling down a quiet country lane,
undisturbed by either man or beast. It took
only a few minutes to walk to the pit.
The crowd of onlookers had thinned, but those that were left were
crowded by the edge of the crater, all eyes fixed upon the meteorite within. “Something
must be happening,” Holmes pointed out to his companion. “They seem to be intent on the meteorite
within.” “Indeed,”
Pierson nodded. “Let us see what might
be happening.” The two
of them made their way—rather rudely if truth be told—through the crowd until they
were in a position to see into the pit. It was
immediately obvious what was causing all the uproar. “Surely
that’s moving!” Holmes said. Indeed,
the upper section of the ‘meteor’ was turning slowly, revealing the kind of
threading that one sees on a jar of preserves. “What
does it mean?” “It
means,” Pierson smiled and looked at the detective. “That there are far more things in the
universe than you think, Mr. Holmes.” He
looked at the slowly unscrewing section of the meteor for a moment, then… “Don’t
get too close to the pit.” He nodded at
the crowd around us. “You don’t want to
get pushed in by accident.” Holmes
nodded and started to ask how he knew so much about what was happening. A loud
noise interrupted him and Holmes turned just in time to see the front of the
meteor—or whatever it truly was—had come loose and fallen to the ground
revealing a dim interior in which, for a brief moment, he thought he saw
something move… Then
the crowd moved closer, pushing him aside in their rush to see what was
happening. “What
is it?” Holmes asked. Pierson
smiled. “You’ll see in a moment.” The
crowd moved closer, pushing Holmes and Pierson aside, while chattering to
themselves as they stared at the new wonder in the pit. But
that wonder turned to fear as something began to crawl out of the opening. |