Sherlock Holmes: The Coils of Time & Other Stories (Sherlock Holmes Adventures Book 1) by Ralph Vaughan

here,” Maddoc murmured.  “But not so in 1954, when they are the lords of the Earth.”
    “Yes, and you have seen where they started their conquest of humanity,” Holmes said.  “Where, Maddoc?  Where are they now?”
    “Spitalfields,” the man replied, drawing himself up.  “Spitalfields in Stepney, just south of the Market on Commercial Road.  There is a sewer opening in Frying Pan Alley; that is where they started, and where we must go to undo what I have done, to put the future back on track.”
    “Yes, we must return to London, the three of us,” Holmes agreed.  “But before we do so, there is one last thing you must do here.”
    “As much as it pains me, Mr Holmes,” Maddoc said, “I fear your are correct, and of the two of us the wiser man.”
    “If I take your meaning aright, I’ll swing the sledgehammer myself,” Kent volunteered.

Chapter XI
    Into the Darkness
     
     
    They journeyed back to London by hired steamer, put at their disposal by Sir Reginald Dunning, whom Holmes contacted by emergency telegram from the Richmond Station.  The great River Thames was layered with predawn blackness and the launch’s running lights were the only lights in motion all along the Syon, Mortlake and other reaches of the Thames, all other vessels either moored till the dawning or waiting for the turning of the tide.  They were unlikely to encounter any significant river traffic till Battersea or Nine Elms, a situation of which Peter Yanoz, owner of the launch, took full advantage, driving the engines at full pressure.
    They passed the Old Deer Park and Kew Gardens on the right, lost in the shrouded night.  Kent lay on deck, letting the cool breeze flow over him, regretting his need to intake so much whiskey.  Holmes sat next to Maddoc on a bench by the side.
    “Some stragglers remained in the woods there,” Maddoc said, “but the largest group moved on to London.”
    “How many do you estimate?” Holmes asked.
    “Fifty at the most, probably less at the moment, but their numbers are not as important as their constitution,” Maddoc answered.
    “Which is?”
    “You must understand that although the Morlocks evolved from modern man they are not like us in many ways,” Maddoc explained.
    “The devil…” Kent muttered, but Holmes gently motioned him to silence.
    “They are hive creatures, the ideal adaptation to  subterranean communal life,” Maddoc continued.  “Every biological and psychological change wrought in them is in answer to and in support of that environment.  Their hives in the future centre about an analogy to a queen bee or queen ant, an entity which I call the Mother-Thing, by dint of its relationship to the ordinary Morlocks of the hive.  A colony cannot exist without a Mother-Thing; kill it and the hive withers.”
    “Hence your zeal to find the centre of the Morlock infestation in London.”
    “By 1954, Mr Holmes, there were three colonies in England and many more throughout the world,” Maddoc said.  “But they all stemmed from the one colony in the London of 1894.”
    “Destroy this colony, and the others will never be.”
    “Precisely,” Maddoc agreed.
    After they passed the distinctively fashioned bridge at Hammersmith and hove closer to the heart of the great city, the captain of the launch was forced to reduce speed.  Holmes roused Kent, who had mostly recovered from his bout with disbelief, faith and whiskey.
    “Maddoc and I will disembark up ahead, but I want you to continue on to New Scotland Yard, landing at the River Police Dock,” Holmes told him.  “The time is past when we can fight this by ourselves.”
    “What if they refuse to believe me?”
    “You must make them believe, if not in the truth then in the danger.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “Call upon resources of my own,” Holmes replied.  “Remember, there are not only the Morlocks to defeat, but William Dunning and the other poor souls to rescue from the darkness, if