We Don't Have Friends

A boy of about eight years of age sat in the shadow of a tree. The tree was the only tree near a gigantic house. He was engrossed in a thick biology book. His silvery blue green eyes flicked back and forth over the print. His hair was curly, an inky black. Despite the rather warm weather, the boy wore a black long sleeved shirt. The dark shirt emphasized the pale complexion of his skin. The thin boy did not look up, at the approach of another young boy.

"Hello," the new boy said. "My name's Spencer Reid." 'Spencer' smiled shyly. Spencer was rather tall, although he looked to be about six or seven. His head was covered in shoulder-length brown hair, and deep brown eyes shone behind a pair of glasses. Spencer clutched his own book, a copy of The Book of Margery Kempe. He had a bag slung over his shoulders.

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. You're American. From Las Vegas, if I'm not mistaken," Sherlock said, eyeing Spencer carefully. He smirked when Spencer's mouth hung open slightly, before he closed it quickly.

"Amazing. I mean, h-how did you know that?" Spencer stammered, gripping his book tightly.

"The tag on your bag. Obviously you flew here. There is still a tag on the strap of your bag, with your name and address on it. And your accent kind of gave it away. How old are you? I'd say six or seven, but that book is a bit much for someone of that age… Although. You are obviously smarter than other people. Plus your bag, it's full of books. Not those small ridiculous books they make for kids. If I had to guess, I would say some of the classics, yes?"

Spencer nodded, his eyes wide. "I'm six. This book is one of my favourites." His face lit up as he spoke. "My mom's a college professor. She teaches fifteenth century literature. She's the reason I love reading."

"I assume you don't do anything other kids do then," Sherlock paused. "Do you play chess?" Sherlock was intrigued by Spencer. Perhaps he finally found someone who matched his own intellect. Someone who wasn't his brother, Mycroft.

"Actually, yes. At least, until everyone stopped wanting to play with me."

"Other kids, or…?"

Spencer snorted, as Sherlock stood, brushing dirt off his trousers. "No, adults. The others don't know how to play. Everyone stopped, since I kept beating everyone." Spencer grinned widely.

Sherlock laughed, and started walking towards the road. Spencer hurried to walk next to him. "So, Spencer. Who are you here with?"

"My mom. We came here for a vacation. Seeing as we love fifteenth century writing, we thought it would be cool to come here. Since Thomas Malory was born here, in Warwickshire." Spencer kicked a loose rock in front of him. The sun emerged from behind the clouds suddenly, and Sherlock squinted, unused to the light.

"What about your father?"

"He's in the middle of a case. He's a lawyer."

"Oh. You don't have any siblings, "Sherlock stated. "Or friends, for that matter." He glanced at Spencer as he said this. He didn't seem to be the social type.

Spencer's mood seemed to darken. "No, no friends. Just my parents and me. How about you?"

Sherlock snorted. "Everyone hates me. I have a brother, Mycroft. He's sixteen. He goes to a boarding school, but he's home for summer holidays. He's supposed to be going back tomorrow. Mummy and Father are away most of the time." He clutched his book closer to his body. "It's just me most of the time. So, where are you and your mum staying?"

"We don't know yet. Mom is at the Black Lion Inn, trying to get us a room." Spencer shrugged as he spoke.

"Oh, so you're supposed to be right across the street from me." The boys reached the road, the Inn right across from them. The two crossed quickly, and Spencer almost sprinted to a woman standing outside with two cases. Sherlock followed slowly, watching as Spencer hugged the woman.

"Hey mom," Spencer said quickly. Gesturing to Sherlock, he added, "This is Sherlock, my new friend." He grinned. Sherlock looked to him in surprise. The woman smiled at Sherlock.

"Hello, Sherlock," she said. "My name's Diana. It's wonderful to see Spencer meeting new people." She held out her hand to Sherlock. Sherlock took her hand, and shook it quickly. "Spencer, we couldn't get a room. They're fully booked." Spencer's smile fell from his face.

"You two could stay with me," Sherlock said quickly, before he could stop himself. Spencer and Diana looked to him.

"Would your parents mind?" Diana inquired, a look of curiosity on her face. Spencer looked hopefully to Sherlock, shifting his bag.

"Of course not, they're out of the country right now. They won't be back for a few more weeks. And Mycroft is going to be leaving tomorrow, so. Mycroft is my brother, Mrs. Reid." Seeing the look of shock on Diana's face, he quickly added, "Don't worry, I'm home alone most of the time. I'm used to it."

"Well…"

"Please mom?" Spencer put in, giving his mother his best puppy look.

Diana quickly crumbled beneath her son's look. "Fine, I guess. If it is truly alright." She glanced at Sherlock. "And dear, please, call me Diana."

Spencer jumped up and down in joy; Sherlock grinned, still astounded that he seemed to have found a friend.