Sherlock;
Rule one for working at Bart's morgue; NEVER get in the way of Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes. The only time she felt she got any attention from the man she fancied WAY too much, was when he needed something in or to do with said morgue. Well, rules were meant to be broken, right?
It was a relatively nice day for London as you walked to the familiar hospital. You really didn't mind working in the basement's morgue, that's what forensic anthropologists do, after all. Molly had always been really nice to you, and despite the warnings you heard about pathologists, you really liked Molly. She was a sweet woman. Not the brightest crayon in the four-colour box, but she was definitely a lot kinder than most of London's residents. Pulling on your lab coat as you entered through the sliding doors.
"Molly, are you done with Madame Clearly? I'd like to start removing the tissues, if you wouldn't mind." You checked your phone when you spoke, looking at your message from your boyfriend, (crush's name). He could be such a jerk at times, but your sister was determined to keep you in a relationship. No way you were going on more blind dates.
"Oh, yes, that's fine y/n, I'll be over in a minute to sign off." Molly called meekly. You already knew she was smiling shyly, so you lifted your head to attempt to smile appreciatively back. What you did notice were two men standing with Molly, one at the microscope, the other just standing there, looking slightly cross, but he quickly softened his exterior.
"Oh, um, hello?" You tried, already knowing who one of them was. Let's just say Molly had a difficult time shutting up when it came to Sherlock Holmes. You swore you knew everything about him- even his shoe size. It was completely ridiculous.
"Hi, I'm John Watson." The first greeted with a sweet smile, holding out his hand. Taking it, and shaking hands lightly, you returned the smile with your usual tight-lipped attempt.
"Y/n L/n." You introduced, only slight hesitation. Turning back to Molly, you had another question.
"Also, I'd like to examine Mr. Princeton." Taken aback at your request, she went to gather the file and find said corpse.
"Why, may I ask?" She gathered the materials, and you went to put on your medical gloves, snapping the thick Snow White latex over your hands.
"Because your autopsy concluded he died from tuberculosis from unpasteurized cow milk, despite him having a milk allergy." Nodding along with your explanation, she continued to prepare the two bodies for you.
"No pets, and a severe awkwardness in social situations. Older sister thinks sociality is important, that's how you were introduced to your boyfriend. You don't like him all that much, but you don't mind as long as you don't have to go through her insistence at having a relationship. Your brighter than most, probably graduated with your pathology degree younger than most. You seem genuinely comfortable with Molly. Could be from the inherent trust from working together all day everyday, more likely because you thoroughly enjoy showing off, and she gives you the perfect excuse to do that, while never getting in a row." As he started this, you just continued to do your work, not really paying much attention. They seemed to be awaiting your answer, so finally you decided to respond.
"No, actually. Forensic Linguistics. I only work here in the morgue with my minor degrees in pathology and anthropology to get away from the rest of the idiots in the psychology department. Besides, the reason I enjoy Molly's company," you paused to shift a vial filled with calcium deposit, mixing it with amino acids, "I really just enjoy someone not treating everyone like dirt for a change, but you were right about my sister and boyfriend. It gets quite annoying, honestly. Plus, it's not awkwardness, it's just choosing to avoid social interaction wherever possible. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a skeletal system to examine."

John;
Medical school had been a LOT of work, but you finally came out on top, doctorate in hand. Now? You just had to find a job, which you figured shouldn't be too hard. Boy, were you wrong. You interviewed at Bart's, nope. Saint Paul's wasn't hiring. And just about seven other places before you made it to this facility. It was basic work, a few patients a day, and all that jazz.
It was a Tuesday when you met John Watson. Two years, only four offices apart, and guess what? You met at the café across the street, Notes. Upon entering the establishment, you realized there weren't any seats left, but you also saw someone reading the exact same book as you; Tuesdays with Morrie. You actually thought this was a really funny coincidence, not only because you meet someone reading the same book on TUESDAY, but he was actually sitting at your usual table. Deciding to make friendly conversation, you crept shyly up to the table, and gently tapped him on the shoulder, your book already being in your arm. The handsome blonde smiled friendly up to you, and you smiled back.
"Sorry to bother you, but it just so happens that I'm reading the same book as you," you held up the copy, quite enjoying the way his eyes lit up at the sight of it, "I just wanted to see how you're enjoying it, so far. I mean, if you don't mind, of course." He laughed a bit, seeming to enjoy your kind demeanor.
"I love it! I'm usually not much of a reader, just don't have the time, but a coworker suggested it to me!" Noticing you were still standing, he quickly added, "Oh! Sorry, please, sit!" Motioning to the other chair. You giggled a bit, pulling the opposite chair out gently, and taking a seat.
"Thank you. I don't usually either, but one of my patients recently showed it to me. A friend of mine had told me to before, but I thought it was high time to actually read it, you know?" The conversation just felt so natural, and he was just easy to talk to. His kind features made it even better, because he just inspired this feeling of comfort and ease.
"Oh, exactly!" He responded, seeming to feel the same about you. The silence grew for a bit before you decided to ask where he worked, which led to finding out you worked only a few doors down from another, and then just random information. You spent about an hour together, simply enjoying the warmth of the Other's company, before he got a text, and had to leave... but not before you exchanged numbers, and decided to update each other on your status in the book!

Mycroft; (sorry this is a bit shorter)
It was snowing heavily, and the bookstore was filling up quick. Many people had come in, just to escape the storm. The government building down the street yielded the most people. The road had closed, no cars being able to enter the high mountains of snow. You kept your gaze mainly down at your book, glancing up at the door at every sound of fairy bells jingling. Jingle, look up, woman with phone, dressed in an expensive suit. Boring. Back to book. Repeat. This pattern continued for seven more rotation, until you looked up and saw an expertly dressed gentleman, his eyes glancing over every person like dirt on his shoe. It was immensely interesting, but when his eyes fell on you, you didn't remove your gaze. The act appeared to intrigue him, because before you knew it he had walked over to you, and actually started a conversation.
The majority of which started with him thinking you were a spy of sort, but that fear quickly dissipated, and turned into a fairly normal conversation on social hierarchy. Most surprising part, to him at least, was the fact he found speaking with you quite enjoyable. You were by no means stupid, and seemed very knowledgeable in your field of forensic anthropology and criminology. Before he knew it, he had your number saved into his phone, and you planned to do this again, soon.