Title: An Even Match

Rating: K

Pairings: None

A/N: This is entirely dedicated to you, Laura. You are responsible for this and probably half a dozen other fics that I've written. Seriously, Lola loves you.

This odd little plot bunny came to me thanks to Laura giving me an adorable fic with young Sherlock in it. I decided that Sherlock and Reid must have met at some point in their lives and proceeded to write the two young boys having a conversation that two young boys have probably never had before.

Hope you enjoy it. Please review! Comments and criticism are welcome!

Las Vegas, Nevada

July 23, 1987

It was a warm summer day and there were children running around the small family park in Vegas, swinging, sliding, and laughing brightly. Parents sat on nearby benches, watching them like hawks and chatting amicably amongst themselves about how tall their child was getting, how smart they were, how energetic they had become. One lone mother sat, blond hair pulled away from her face, blue eyes shining as she watched her son. It was one of her better days and she insisted that she go with Spencer to the park today. She was so rarely able to do so.

Her five year old son wasn't playing with the other children. Quite the opposite, actually. His long, moppy brown hair spilled into his bespectacled eyes as he sat alone at a small chess table. He had become a fixture at the park since he was four, often playing against adults and being generally ignored by the children. But today there was no one. His mother had offered, but he turned her down. She let him win too often and he didn't want to win if it wasn't for real.

So he sat by himself, playing both black and white pieces, sharp hazel eyes large and round behind his glasses as his nimble fingers grabbed the pawns and knights and rooks and castles and moved them around the board, quickly gathering a pile of each to either side of the board. All while his mother watched on, a dreamy smile on her face.

Just as Spencer had finished setting up the board for a new game and moved his first pawn, a shadow moved quickly passed his eyes and a boy sat down in front of him. He wasn't much older than Spencer, dark messy curls falling into his own pale face. He had quick, sharp, steel blue eyes that were far too keen for a child and a strangely haughty sort of air about him. Without a word, he picked up a black pawn and moved it.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asked, blinking his wide eyes up at the slightly taller boy.

The boy tilted his head, "Playing chess," he said. His voice was just as haughty as his appearance and that tinge of arrogance sounded odd coming from a child. Spencer eyed him curiously.

"Why?"

"'Cos you were playing all alone and chess is much better with two players,"

Spencer nodded, decided he was right about that. He much preferred playing chess with someone else, but he'd never, ever gotten someone so close to his own age to play with him before. Most children were far more interested in playing with dinosaur toys and model cars. Chess was a grown up game, not a kid game.

"How old are you?" he asked, swinging his legs beneath his seat and leaning forward, a surprising serious look on his face as he studied the chess board before him and considered his next move.

"Seven," the boy answered, a faint smile on his lips when Spencer made his move. He didn't pause to consider his own, swiftly moving his piece and looking up to meet Spencer's eyes. "I'm Sherlock," he said, his voice lilting softly.

"My name's Spencer," Spencer said, frowning after a moment, "You talk funny."

Sherlock's brows creased together comically over his blue eyes and he puckered his lips, "I do not!" he said indignantly, "I talk perfectly normal!"

Spencer smiled and shook his head, still considering his next move, "No, you say words different," he insisted, round eyes fixed on Sherlock with a strange sharpness. "You're not from here."

Sherlock nodded, "Of course not, I'm from England,"

Spencer's round eyes got even wider and he looked excited for a moment, forgetting all about their chess game. "My mom's been there before. She told me about it once… Do you live there?"

Sherlock nodded, "Yes, my family is here for summer; my mum and dad are still at the hotel," he looked around for a moment and then pointed out a taller boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old, sitting on a bench alone, reading. "That's my brother, his name's Mycroft. He goes to a big private school for smart children. My mum says I'll go there too, when I'm old enough. Have you got any brothers?"

Spencer's smile fell a bit and he shook his head, "No. I just have a mom and dad. My dad's always working and my mom is sick sometimes, so she doesn't get out of bed, but she reads to me and tells me stories at night when she feels better,"

Sherlock tilted his head, nodding slowly before looking back at the chess board. "Are you going to move?"

The five year old blinked and nodded quickly, looking back at the board. It still took him a minute, but he made his next move and glanced up, watching as Sherlock once again didn't pause to move again. The younger boy's lips quirked slightly.

"None of the other boys will play chess with me," he said, "They just want to play with their cars and ride bicycles."

Young Sherlock's mouth twisted into something very close to a sneer, but it couldn't have been that because since when do seven year old's sneer? "They're just stupid," he said, with so much conviction it was hard to believe he was really only seven.

Spencer puckered his brow, shaking his head. "My mom says it's rude to call people stupid," he said quickly.

"Well they are," Sherlock insisted, "I'm much cleverer than they are. You are too, you must be… Are you going to move?" he reminded the younger boy again, who nodded, but still took his time contemplating his next move.

"It's still rude," Spencer said, "You shouldn't call people stupid, even if you are smart."

Sherlock disagreed, "They are. They're stupid. Stupid, dumb idiots. My brother Mycroft says that boys like that are all going to work at petrol stations. That's how stupid they are."

Spencer's hazel eyes were huge behind his glasses, apparently having never heard another child talk so rudely. He shook his head, "You shouldn't talk about people like that,"

Sherlock remained adamant thought, "Why not?" he demanded. "They're mean to you, they laugh at you and push you down and don't play with you at school."

Spencer looked back down at the chess board, not sure he liked this boy anymore. He didn't like being left out and picked on. His dad told him that he should stick up for himself and tell them to leave him alone, but he never could quite get up the courage to do that.

Sherlock crossed his arms, realizing that he'd upset the other boy. Their chess game was now almost entirely forgotten as he sat up a bit straighter and his steely eyes sparked. "Why should you be nice to them if they're so mean to you?" he demanded.

For a moment, Spencer didn't say anything and then he looked back up, his lips pressed together slightly as he thought. His glasses, which were far too large for his face, had slid down his nose a bit and obscured his vision, but he didn't reach up to straighten them. "Well what should I do?" he asked back. "They're just bullies. My mom says to ignore them and don't... don't anta-ana… don't bother them,"

Spencer frowned, upset not to have been able to recall the word. He could usually recall things very easily, but sometimes he had trouble with the words his mother taught him. He promised himself to go look it up as soon as he got home.

Sherlock tilted his head, "My brother says that they're just jealous because I'm smarter than they are, so I don't care. They're just stupid."

Spencer's eyes got impossibly wide at that and he stared at the other boy. "Boys are mean to you too?" He'd somehow always thought he was alone in the world, a freak like the boys at school called him. An outsider. If a five year old can truly have a concept of what an outsider is.

Sherlock nodded absently, curls bouncing slightly, "Yes. But they're stupid, when I'm big I'll be much more cleverer than they are and I'll have a… career and they'll still be stupid,"

That made Spencer smile a little. Of course, it was still rude to call those boys stupid, but when Sherlock said it like that it did make him feel better. "What are you going to be when you grow up?" he asked.

"I dunno," Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly, those piecing blue eyes of his glancing back at his older brother. "My brother says he wants to work in the government. Like spies and things. But that's silly, I want to do something… practical." The last word was spoke carefully, as if the child wasn't quite sure how to fit it in his mouth, but knew what it looked like.

"I wanna be a cop," Spencer said immediately.

Sherlock snorted, "That's silly too," he said, "Cops have to follow rules and stuff and they hardly ever catch the bad guys. Cops are stupid."

Spencer made a face, "That's not true! My dad's a lawyer, he works with cops all the time. They can be smart!"

Sherlock frowned, "Maybe sometimes, but cops don't pay attention to stuff. You might be a good cop. You're not stupid."

Spencer actually grinned at that. His mother told him all the time that he was brilliant and so did his teacher. His classmates mostly just made fun of him and his father tried to make him do things he didn't like to do, like play tee-ball and watch sports. Although, his dad had taught him to play cards last month. He was very good at cards…

"Well I am going to be a cop," he insisted. "I'm going to stop bad guys and save people."

"Cops can't save everyone," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "People get killed all the time. I'd never be a cop. Never ever."

Across the park, a dark hair woman sat down next to Diana Reid and smiled, nodding in the direction of the two young boys arguing over a chess table, a faint smile on her lips. "Is he yours?" she asked quietly.

Diana nodded, "Yes," her eyes sparkled. "His name's Spencer."

The woman smiled brighter, "That's my Sherlock," she shook her head. "He'll start an argument with a door, I swear. He's worse than his brother."

Diana chuckled, "Well, he's very bright, he and Spencer were playing chess a few minutes ago,"

"Really? Your son plays chess? How old is he?" the woman sounded surprised. She hadn't met very many children, even at Mycroft's school, anywhere near as smart as her boys.

Diana nodded, "He's five. He's only been playing about a year, but he's already better than his father and me. He won't even play with me anymore. He says I let him win." She laughed and the woman next her nodded, smiling.

"Sherlock's the same. He says we treat him like a child. He is a child, but he refuses to believe that. He had a fit when we said he couldn't come to the park alone. He said he needed 'thinking space'," she smiled and looked at her son fondly.

Diana smiled, "They seem to be getting along well," she turned to look the woman over again. She was neatly dressed and sat straight in her seat, holding a bag in her lap carefully. She decided she liked this woman.

"If you're going to be here for a while longer, maybe you could come by our house. Sherlock and Spencer could play chess together there,"

The woman's eyes sparkled and she nodded, "I think he'd like that. There are so few children at home that he can relate to. It'd be good for him to realize he's not the only young genius in the world. He might just have met his match… Who knows, they might even become friends."

-Fin-

A/N: *crosses fingers* I hope that was alright. And that they were in character. I had way too much fun writing little Sherlock and Reid.

Also, I don't think Sherlock's mother's name is ever actually mentioned and I didn't make up one here. I hope that's alright. As for timing, I don't know Sherlock's real age, but Reid was born in 1981 if my math is correct (if not, I can't be far off) so he'd be almost six here, but still five.

Please review, let me know what you think!