Sherlock Holmes and the Zombie Problem by Nick S. Thomas, Arthur C. Doyle

free upon the roof, echoing wildly across the well filled room and causing all, including those
clashing with blades, to freeze.
“Just moments down that road a horde of creatures the likes you have never witnessed are approaching these fine premises, with the bodies of humans and yet the
aggression of wild beasts.”
The only man I knew in the room, and only through reputation not acquaintance, Mr. Alfred Hutton, removed his fencing mask and looked at us with an odd expression,
sweat dripping from his brow. He wiped across his face with his cuff and then strolled a few paces closer, measuring us up before finally speaking, and the rest of
the room still silent.
“And who dares interrupt such a gathering of fine men, sir?”
“Sherlock Holmes,” a strong and confident reply sounded from my associate and friend. The men of the room gasped faintly, now paying slightly more heed to our words, but still quite reserved. It would be no easy task to explain to such a fine body of
men the burden we had now placed upon them. “Your reputation precedes you my dear sir, and yet your story does not carry such weight,” he said.
“It is not a story I ever expected to be telling to anyone but children sir, but that does not deter from the true facts of the horde which is now bearing down upon this place,”
Holmes replied.
“I am sorry to say sir that I find it hard to believe a tall tale such as this in this place and time, I must ask, how much have you had to drink?”
As Hutton said this he was closely examining our clothes and weapons. Blood speckles ran up our trouser legs and cuffs, powder stains on our shoulders and with stained faces and hands, my rifle showing powder residue.
I could see Hutton’s expression turn from insult and outrage to genuine interest and concern, for he knew the tell tale signs of serious combat just as we did.
As the bold Hutton’s words rang out a resounding crash rang out as something beat against the door, again and again, it got loader, beyond what one man could do. The men of the room fell silent, half in surprise and half in fright, not knowing whether we spoke the truth or coincidence had played a part. A man near the door edged closer, whilst all others stood frozen, heart beats pounding, not wanting to believe our story, but also now worried about the possibility of its truthfulness. The man’s hand reached for the handle of the door, slowly, shaking. His hand finally reached the handle and releasing it he was launched backwards as the door struck him hard and what was now a familiar frenzied human resembling thing stumbled through the open doorway. The foe immediately fell upon the unfortunate man and with all energy tried to kill him.
At this stage, we were only lucky to have entered a room with men experienced in the world and quick to establish the story behind a situation. They may not know everything we did, but they knew what was best for all.
Hutton and his assistant ran towards the assailant, but the beast struck hard, nearly breaking the man’s jaw. Hutton, still wielding a sword as tall as a man, stormed towards
the creature and struck him with all force to the collar, knocking his foe to the ground, creating a gapping whole in the villain’s shoulder, but not killing him. Hutton stuck
his tall leather boot in to the man’s face at high speed, and then used the leverage to pull his sword from his collar, before grasping the sword in a wide two handed grip and
driving the point into the beast’s heart as it lay on the floor. “Close the doors!” bellowed from Hutton’s mouth. Men from all sides stormed to the entrance and attempted to force the door shut against the strength of those pushing against it, and finally managed to get them shut as Holmes beat against the arms of those trying to breach it. The doors would evidently only hold for a limited time, but that was a consolation, knowing we could educate a number of fine strong men before going into combat with the