Two Hundred and Twenty-One Baker Streets by Guy Adams, Kasey Lansdale, Glen Mehn Page A

wouldn’t even be like hitting someone’s dog, more like hitting a squirrel.”
    “A mangy pigeon.” Charlotte offered.
    “A rat. A really disgusting one.” The girls grinned, and then Jane broke Charlotte’s gaze awkwardly. “So what did the rat say to you?”
    “He said a lot of mean things about you, about me. There was truth in there too, but... nothing I hadn’t already worked out for myself, over the last few days.”
    “He showed you the book?” Jane felt ill.
    “Yes. But you didn’t have to put us in a high school for me to realise who you were writing about, all this time.” Charlotte looked angry.
    The void was back in Jane’s insides. This was starting to feel like the end of something: denial, maybe. Friendship, possibly.
    “I’m sorry. I’ll delete all the fics, I’ll stop sitting next to you in class, I’ll understand if you never want to talk to me again—”
    “Why did you lie to me?”
    Jane was taken aback. “Lie to you? I didn’t lie, I—”
    “You hid your feelings, you didn’t tell me what you were going through. We could have talked about this. I might have understood. I could have helped!”
    “You might have understood?”
    Charlotte sighed, exasperated. “In all the time you’ve known me, have you ever known me to show any interest in boys?”
    “No.” Jane thought about it. “You’ve never shown any interest in girls, either.”
    “There is one girl I spend a lot of time with.”
    “Oh. Um.”
    The two girls were silent.
    “So does that mean we can—” Jane left the question unspoken. Do what? Kiss, date, hook up? Pretend like Jane wasn’t the creepiest creeper who ever creeped?
    “I think... I think I need some time. You’ve made it weird, now. Studying me, how I dress, how I talk. Publishing it online all this time. We’re not Sherlock and John, Jane, we’re you and me.”
    Charlotte reached into her coat pocket for her Mayfairs, looked as if she were about to light one, saw Jane watching and put it back. “I’m going to have to change brands, aren’t I.”
    “I’m really sorry, Charlotte.” Jane felt tears pricking at the corner of her eye. “Really, really sorry. I can delete the fics, I mean it. All they were—it was a way to deal with how I felt. Writing it out on the page made it feel like �s insides. This was starting to feel like the end of something: denial, maybe. Friendship, possibly.
    “I’m sorry. I’ll delete all the fics, I’ll stop sitting next to you in class, I’ll understand if you never want to talk to me again—”
    “Why did you lie to me?”
    Jane was taken aback. “Lie to you? I didn’t lie, I—”
    “You hid your feelings, you didn’t tell me what you were going through. We could have talked about this. I might have understood. I could have helped!”
    “You might have understood?”
    Charlotte sighed, exasperated. “In all the time you’ve known me, have you ever known me to show any interest in boys?”
    “No.” Jane thought about it. “You’ve never shown any interest in girls, either.”
    “There is one girl I spend a lot of time with.”
    “Oh. Um.”
    The two girls were silent.
    “So does that mean we can—” Jane left the question unspoken. Do what? Kiss, date, hook up? Pretend like Jane wasn’t the creepiest creeper who ever creeped?
    “I think... I think I need some t