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Summary
Sherlock’s strop ends abruptly as the vial he’s been holding flies out of his hand and shatters on the ground. A million tiny crystals and an iridescent liquid spread out in an oval shape along the tiled floor.
“Oh dear god, no,” Sherlock says. He backs away, even as Lestrade and John instinctively move toward the mess. “No, John, back away and cover your mouth. It’s highly toxic.”