Sherlock Holmes was a singular man. He may not have appeared to care overmuch about Queen and Country, but when it came to the Queen's English, he was prepared to take a stand. Yes, Sherlock was a singular man, and he expected everyone he spoke with to use the correct singular form of a verb with a singular subject. Witness his interrogation of a linguistically-challenged prisoner:

"Just tell me what happened from the beginning."

"We'd been to a bar, a nice place, and I got chattin' with one of the waitresses, and Karen weren't happy with that, so when we get back to the hotel we end up having a bit of a ding dong, don't we? She was always gettin' at me, saying I weren't a real man —"

"Wasn't."

"What?"

"It's not weren't, it's wasn't."

"Oh…"

"Go on."

"Well, then, I don't know how it happened, but suddenly there's a knife in my hands. And you know, me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives. He learned us how to cut up a beast —"

"Taught."

"What?"

"Taught you how to cut up a beast."

"Yeah, well, then I done it."

"Did it."

"Stabbed her! Over and over and over! And I looked down and she weren't... wasn't movin' no more. Any more. God help me, I don't know how it happened, but it was an accident, I swear… Hey, you gotta help me, Mr. Holmes! Everyone says you're the best. Without you, I'll get hung for this."

"No, no, Mr. Bewick, not at all. Hanged, yes."

…

Sherlock Holmes was a tense man, as tightly strung as a rubber band stretched to its limit. Yes, Sherlock was a tense man, and he was ready to snap at anyone foolish enough to use the wrong verb tense — or, worse still, a non-standard verb tense — in his presence. Witness his questioning of a grammatically incorrect potential client:

"What brings you here?"

"It started last night. I was sat at the pub —"

"Stop. Are you trying to say you sat, or you were sitting, or you were seated?"

"Huh?"

"Did you sit down? Then say that you sat. Did you sit down and stay there? Then say that you were sitting. Did someone seat you? Then say that you were seated."

"Um… What difference does it make?"

"What difference? If you stabbed someone," Sherlock explained, picking up a dagger from the mantlepiece and making a single swift stabbing motion, "it may have been an isolated incident. But if you were stabbing someone," he went on, jabbing the dagger repeatedly toward John, who barely batted an eye at his flatmate's familiar dramatics, "that suggests a continuing action. And if you were stabbed," he snarled, with a menacing lunge toward the cowering client, "then I'm certain you would feel the difference."

…

John Watson was an imperfect man. He had never been perfect, and by the time he returned from Afghanistan he had a host of new physical, mental, and emotional scars. Yes, John was an imperfect man, but he was perfect for Sherlock. Witness his response when their erstwhile client fled from 221B Baker Street in terror:

"Bit not good, Sherlock."

"I was merely trying to educate him. A grown man should know how to use the simple past and past continuous tenses, and understand the difference between transitive and intransitive verbs."

"Fine. But you could have picked a less threatening verb than 'stab.'"

"Oh. And what would you have chosen to use as an example?"

"How about, 'I jerked off last night. I was jerking off in my bedroom while you were down here playing the violin. Later, I was jerked off by you in my dreams…'"

…

Sherlock was a striking man. To the casual observer, John may have seemed ordinary in comparison. Yet, in truth, they were well-matched. As flatmates. As partners. As friends. Now, the extraordinary John Watson was striking a match in the darkness of a heretofore unexamined room of Sherlock's mind palace.

In the flickering light, Sherlock saw a king-sized bed with matching nightstands. The one on the left held his own familiar paraphernalia. His attention was drawn to the one on the right. Its top drawer was ajar, and Sherlock caught a glimpse of John's gun. And condoms. And lube.

"John…"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you know the difference between the indicative and subjunctive moods?"

"Why don't you give me an example, and we'll find out."

"Okay. What if I said, 'I am wondering what would happen if I were to kiss you right now.'"

"A grammarian might call that the subjunctive mood, but I'd say your mood is quite indicative…"

Sherlock was a reserved man, but at that moment he gave one of the rare, genuine smiles that he reserved solely for John. It was met with an answering grin.

"Would you like to hear something in the future perfect tense, Sherlock?"

"I would."

"By the time the clock strikes midnight, I will have kissed you breathless."

Yes, indeed, the future would be perfect.

End Notes: This is my first foray into writing in the Sherlock fandom. I'd love to get your feedback. This story has not been Brit-picked or beta'd. If you find any errors, please let me know. Gently, and without any stabbing motions, if possible.