John Watson was having a very bad day. That morning the sun had been shining, but now it was pouring down rain. He was currently trudging toward 221 B Street. He would have hailed a cab, except for the fact that he had no money. His right-front pants pocket had a hole in front God knows what.
As the rain thundered on, John had the thought that his currently miserable life could not possibly get any worse. He was so wrong. Just at that moment, a dark shape moved over him in the sky. On the bright side, the shape protected him from the downpour. The dark shape was an alien spaceship.
From the spaceship came a loud scraping noise. A door in the side had opened. Out poured a hoard of alien zombies. John shook his head once and then promptly ran for his life from the incoming creatures.
The undead scattered themselves throughout the streets. Some of them spotted John and chased. John ran all the faster. He could not remember running this fast since his service in the military. John looked back. The creatures were gaining on him. Right in front of him, though, was the beautiful sight of 221 B Baker Street. John could have sworn that the lettering on the door was glowing. He reached the door and grabbed the knob. The ali-zombs, as he now called them, were just behind him. He threw open the door and barely made it inside.