Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer meets Spock

In Competition No. 3158 you were invited to supply an extract describing a well-known fictional detective who finds themselves catapulted into an unfamiliar milieu.

This was a crowd-pleasing comp, attracting a large field of old hands and newcomers alike. But it turned out to be a tricky one too and terrific beginnings were often marred by weak finishing.

Lots of you imagined Hercule Poirot and co grappling with Zoom; only Brian Murdoch thought of sending Morse to Narnia. Lord Peter Wimsey found himself in Wetherspoon’s one minute, and in the company of astronaut Nicholas Patrick the next.

Nick MacKinnon, who submitted one of many entries featuring Sherlock Holmes, came closest to capturing the spirit of Conan Doyle. Honourable mentions also go to Sarah Lambirth, Harriet Elvin, David Harris and Janine Beacham. The winners, printed below, are rewarded with £30 each.

I always had the idea Vulcans were fussy, but Spock gave me the creeps. His ears were shaped like the teeth of a Great White Shark, and he acted superior, like he was the quartermaster and you were aiming to snitch an extra blanket. He spoke like a memorandum. But when the Enterprise blew into a fleet of Klingon ships, you had to respect the guy. The others looked sick to the lips.‘You carrying, Mike?’ said Spock, as Klingons minced aboard. Their froggy foreheads looked like imitation footballs, ready to burst.‘You’re kidding,’ I said. I took my gat out and whacked their leader on the proboscis. He went down, and stayed down. ‘Scram back to Kronos,’ I told them, and pressed EJECT. ‘Fire all engines, Sulu,’ I snarled. ‘Warp Factor 500. We have to reach D4987/Q by nightfall.’That’s when I clocked Uhura. Our mouths met like flames.Bill Greenwell/Mike Hammer

I knew a thing or two about finding stolen jewellery, but this case stank like an anchovy in a martini.