Sherlock Holmes and the Roswell Incident
Michael Druce
First published in 2018 by
MX Publishing
www.mxpublishing.com
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© Copyright 2018 Michael Druce
Cover layout and construction by Brian Belanger
The right of Michael Druce to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Author’s Note
With few exceptions, I am a fan of both the literary and film adventures of Sherlock Holmes. For me, Holmes and Watson are timeless and ageless. Thus, I enjoy the various iterations of Sherlock Holmes stories no matter when and where they are set. I take pleasure in the works of Conan Doyle set in the 1800s as well as the films of Basil Rathbone set during World War II, the Robert Downey Jr. adventures, and the contemporary Sherlock.
In Sherlock Holmes and the Roswell Incident, Holmes and Watson exist in a later time than that of the original stories. My hope is readers are forgiving of my taking such creative license.
When one blends factual events with fiction, persons, places, and events are necessarily subject to cherry picking. Some remain in service to the story, some are embellished, and others are ignored entirely. Where no factual record exists, one may conclude these are the invention of the author. Errors of fact may also be attributed to the author.
M.D.
Forward
On Halloween night 1938, a brash young actor and producer by the name of Orson Welles created a scandal that would have repercussions for years to come. The young Welles and his Mercury Theatre troupe mounted a daring radio production of H. G. Wells’ War of the Worlds. Departing from the narrative of the novel, the production was broadcast as a series of simulated news bulletins. Airing with a disclaimer that the program to follow was a radio fiction, many listeners who tuned in late missed the warning and believed they were listening to an eyewitness report of an actual Martian invasion. The broadcast caused hysteria nationwide and created a public relations nightmare for the Columbia Broadcasting System. The broadcast should have ruined the career of the upstart Orson Welles. Instead, it had quite the opposite effect. Welles expressed the appropriate humility and regret, yet one could not help but sense he was delighted by the attention. Soon thereafter he became the recipient of Hollywood’s Holy Grail, a contract to make motion pictures. For a short time, Welles was proclaimed as Hollywood’s boy wonder. His fame was meteoric. But as often happens in Hollywood, ego, money, and politics took their toll and the young Welles quickly flamed out.
Due in part perhaps to the apprehension of an impending war and the paranoia associated with uncertainty, the fears that had been exposed by the radio broadcast never entirely vanished. They slipped below the surface of the public’s consciousness, and there they would remain until some years hence when they would once again be brought to the surface by what would become known as UFO fever.
How Sherlock Holmes and I found ourselves ensnared in what yet remains the most famous UFO mystery of all time, I now set forth in the adventure I call Sherlock Holmes and the Roswell Incident.
All Good Things
London, 1946
Thursday fortnights for almost a year, Ellen Sharpe arrived by train at Victoria Station. With a large leather bag slung over her shoulder, she exited the train, threaded her way through the cavernous station, and walked five minutes to an obscure little restaurant called The Thesean Thread. The young woman who was considered a regular was warmly greeted by the proprietor and led to her preferred table by the window overlooking Ebury Street. Her habit was to sit with her back to the window to avoid being recognized. Practically speaking, her preferred table allowed easy access to the exit.
A waiter brought Ellen Sharpe’s drink order on a small tray.
She thanked him with a smile and stared into the glass, losing herself in a kaleidoscope of memories.
A shadow fell across the table.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
Ellen Sharpe glanced up at a familiar face. It was not the face she was expecting to see. For an instant, her heart stopped beating. A hundred thoughts raced through her mind. She drew a breath and smiled graciously. Mustering as much poise as she was able, she did not wish to belie the fear that had suddenly taken hold.
“By all means. Please.”
The man sat across from her. As matter of habit, he smoothed his tie, although it wasn’t necessary. He was impeccably tailored.
“Intriguing name, don’t you think? The Thesean Thread.”
“Is it? I can’t imagine I have given it much thought.”
“Reminds one of the labyrinth, Theseus, the Minotaur, Icarus. Suggestive of all sorts of intrigue and possibility, wouldn’t you agree?”
“As I say, it is not something I have considered. I come here because it is quiet and friendly. It is a pleasant atmosphere in which to have a drink after a day of work.”
A waiter approached. “Your usual, sir?”
The man nodded.
The waiter thanked the gentleman and hurried away.
“Creature of habit, I am afraid. Since discovering this quaint little place, I come here often. Funny how predictable we become, how easily we slip into routines.”
Ellen Sharpe managed a thin smile. She moved her leg against the large leather bag resting against the left side of her chair.
“Sometimes others recognize our routines before we ourselves do.”
“I really couldn’t say.”
“Miss Sharpe, isn’t it?”
“Ellen,” the young woman replied.
“Of course.”
The waiter returned with the gentleman’s drink.
“Another?” Ellen’s intrusive guest asked.
Ellen Sharpe shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”
The waiter was dismissed with a curt gesture.
“You are with de Havilland, I believe.”
Ellen nodded.
“You have been with them since ...?”
“Forty-four,” Ellen said quietly.
“Forty-four. Yes, shortly before the end of the war. A lot of fine work being done at de Havilland. Cutting edge, I believe they say, especially the Comet project. A first-class piece of aeronautical technology. During the war, de Havilland saved our proverbial bacon. You know the Germans were keen to wipe that place off the face of the planet. They undertook a sustained campaign to bomb it right out of existence. It was because of that pesky DH 98 Mosquito. It turns out those wooden wonders gave the Germans fits. I don’t suppose you were onboard during the effort to make it appear as if the Germans had succeeded in destroying the de Havilland facility. It was all very theatrical and quite successful, I should say.”
“That happened before my time.”
Ellen Sharpe nodded.
“That must be extraordinarily interesting, drafting designs, reproducing copies of components. I should think it must be tremendously rewarding work for a young woman such as yourself.”
“Very. I am most grateful to have gotten a berth with the company.”
“But I shouldn’t imagine it pays well.”
“I make ends meet.”
“As it would seem. That is a lovely necklace you are wearing.”
“Thank you.” Ellen’s fingers instinctively felt for the pendant around her neck. The flesh beneath her fingers felt as if it would burst into flame. She wondered if her neck were turning red.
“It must be difficult to afford such a beautiful piece of jewelry on a draughtswoman’s salary.”
“It was a gift.”
“Paris, wasn’t it?”
Ellen’s heart sank.
“Paris, where nothing is more fantastic, more tragic, more sublime.”
Ellen Sharpe knew her Victor Hugo. The moment this unwanted guest had asked to join her, she had hoped against all hope his presence was merely a courtesy or a meaningless flirtation.
“What was his name again?”
Ellen smiled to herself. This encounter was a fishing expedition. They didn’t know her lover’s name; nor would they find out.
The man waited.
Obstinately, Ellen stared directly into the man’s eyes.
“Such nobility in loyalty. And yet loyalty is so often misplaced. No matter. Eventually everything rises to the surface. I gather we will find equally important information in that leather bag at your feet.”
Ellen’s thoughts drifted back to the two brief holidays she had spent in Paris with her Russian lover. He had swept her off her feet and showered her with gifts and affection. He had asked so little in return for a few brief days of bliss.
“Ironically, his majesty’s government has received an order from the Soviet Union for twenty Nene and Derwent engines. What is one to make of that? It makes a perfect mockery of industrial espionage when one’s own government is selling the very secrets one has been smuggling abroad.”
Ellen had nothing to say.
“Should you be curious, the contact you normally meet here has another engagement. But, of course, you have already gathered that. When you think about it, isn’t it all water under the bridge? You really don’t expect to see your paramour again, do you? Why not make it easy on yourself? Give us his name.”
“I cannot.”
“Miss Sharpe, I implore you to look out for yourself. The Soviets are notorious for taking advantage of vulnerable young women and then disposing of them. You deserve better.”
Ellen slowly pushed away from the table.
“No rush. Take your time. Finish your drink. When you are ready, two gentlemen are here to escort you to SIS headquarters.”
Mycroft Holmes rose from the table.
“Good evening, Miss Sharpe.”
Ellen Sharpe stared into her glass, recalling that all too brief time with Arkady. How sad, she thought, never to see him again.
Fire in the sky
Roswell, New Mexico
July 7, 1947
A fireball illuminated the night sky over New Mexico as if daylight had veered from its diurnal course and returned whence it came. Thousands witnessed the fiery object streak across the night sky above Roswell before it eventually crashed to earth some seventy-five miles away. Telephone switchboards throughout the region lit up like Christmas trees, suddenly ablaze with inquiries and breathless reports of a fiery crash. Radio stations were inundated with calls. The Army Air Forces were put on alert as a matter of routine. Events such as this attracted widespread public attention; however, little of what happened was rare or unusual. No one at the Roswell Army Air Field was overly concerned. A severe thunderstorm had passed through earlier that evening. Few were anxious to begin a search for what was most likely a meteorite. Dozens of similar incidents had been reported over the years. Most often they yielded nothing. Either they remained undiscovered or they had burned themselves to ash. Rarely did one find anything other than cold molten rock.
This night an amorous young couple was engaged in an activity referred to as parking. To ensure their privacy, the young couple had driven to a secluded location to vent their passions. The young man and the young lady had both recently graduated high school. They had been sweethearts for three years. In addition to acting upon those pent-up passions, this night of parking had also been planned to decide their futures. Should marriage come first and then college? Or should it be college and then marriage? Or should it be marriage and college at the same time? The young man was leaning toward marriage first. The young lady, the more levelheaded of the two, preferred college first.
In the middle of a heated embrace, the fireball roared overhead. The object was so close the couple could have sworn it scraped the roof of the car. Everything lit up around them as if a million cameras had flashed at one time. The noise was that of a train roaring past. The heat was instant and intense. The tires of the car exploded, and the rubber windshield wipers vaporized, leaving nothing but runny, black ooze.
The girl pulled away from her boyfriend and quickly re-buttoned her blouse. “Good God, Lee, what was that? Was it a plane?”
Lee slid across the seat to the driver’s side and pushed open the door. “I don’t know. I’m about to burn up. I’ve got to get out of here.”
Several hundred yards on an intense fire cast an orange glow across the rough New Mexico terrain. The boy leaned into the driver’s side window.
“Get me my flashlight. It’s in the glove box. Whatever it is, it crashed just over there.”
The girl had switched on the dome light and was looking at the right side of her face in the rearview mirror.
“Jenny, I said get me the flashlight!”
The girl pressed her hand to one cheek and then the other. “The right side of my face is burned.”
“Grab my light. Let’s have a look.”
Jenny removed the torch from the glove compartment and exited the vehicle on the passenger’s side. She walked around the car to her boyfriend. “Here,” she said, handing the torch to the shaken young man.
Lee shone the light on Jenny’s right cheek. “Gee, it’s like you’ve got a sunburn on one side of your face. What about me?”
Jenny took the torch and shined it in Lee’s face. “The whole left side of your face is completely red. We need to get home.”
“No,” Lee said, looking toward the now waning orange glow. “I want to know what that is.”
“Lee, we should get back to Roswell as soon as we can. We need to get to a hospital. These burns might be serious.”
“I am not leaving until I know what that is.”
“It’s not our business. Now let’s go!”
Lee glanced first at his front tire, and then the rear, and then he circled his car. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“Fine,” Jenny snapped. “I’ll take the car and you can stay here.”
“Jenny, the tires are blown out.”
Jenny glanced down at the smoldering tires. “Do you have a spare?”
“Not four of them, I don’t!”
“You don’t have to bite my head off. I’ll walk up to the highway then,” the girl said.
“You think that’s a smart idea in the dark?”
“Have you got a better idea?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sure someone will be out this way soon. We’re not the only ones who saw this. Other people will have seen that fire in the distance. It couldn’t be more than a few hundred yards from here.”
“Lee, I don’t want to
get into trouble. You know how my momma can be, if she finds out.”
“Jenny, we’re already in trouble. We’re not leaving here until somebody drives us home. You don’t think my dad is going to be upset about his car? Come on, let’s see what this thing is.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“You and me both.”
Following the beam of light from his torch, Lee took Jenny by the hand and led her toward the glow in the distance.
When the young couple reached the impact site, the flames had drawn down. Lee and Jenny stepped into a smoky clearing. Brush and scrubland trees were now smoky skeletons. The burning object began to collapse into itself.
“What is this, Lee?”
“It ain’t no meteor.”
“Is it a plane?” The girl asked.
Lee squeezed Jenny’s hand. “Not like any plane I’ve seen. At least I don’t think it is. It’s so bent and twisted it’s hard to say. It’s some sort of craft. What else could it be?”
“This is spooky, Lee. I think we should go.”
At that moment something rustled in the bushes on the other side of the object. Jenny squeezed Lee’s hand so hard he felt as if his fingers would break.
“What is that?” Jenny whispered.
The young couple peered into the darkness. For an instant there was a white light, as if someone with a torch was among the rocks beyond the burn site.
Lee aimed his torch in the direction of the light. Immediately the other light disappeared. Then he pointed his torch at the area from which the noise had come. Jenny screamed, her hand flying up to her mouth.
Two creatures were moving toward them and then froze, as if startled by Lee’s torch and Jenny’s scream. One of the creatures leaned against a rock for support. It seemed to be gasping for air. The other creature dropped to the ground on all fours. It too seemed to be gasping for air. Whatever these creatures were, they were unlike anything the couple had ever seen before. They were humanoid in form, each with two arms and two legs and facial features, but they were not human. They appeared reptilian.
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