[ Oh, that's a nice touch - compression-devices, of course he'd need those, and they've got to be rather special too, with how fast that liquid sublimates. Sherlock studies the web on the wall for a second or two before turning towards the boy, smiling very slightly at the sight of John, being reduced once again to holding stuff for other people. That'll no doubt tickle him just right. He shoots the man a quick look and a raised eyebrow before returning his attention to Spider-Boy. ]

Won't tell a soul. [ And he really won't. This is for him to fiddle with. Nice cure for boredom, as long as it lasts. It doesn't once occur to him to scoff at the idea of a high school student, producing something so noteworthy. Intelligence is not a matter of age. For instance, he's quite certain he's been smarter than Anderson since age 2. ] But this is all external. [ He points at the vial in John's hand and the shooters on Spider-Boy's wrists. ] No less interesting for that - but what about you?

[ Aaaand - he'll be drawing closer again, Peter, and this time he's got a look on his face similar to someone dissecting a rare animal in a lab. He pauses a respectable distance away, though - he's seen what nylon-like web can do and he'd rather not be stuck to the wall for two hours if he can avoid it. ]

Fast metabolism, you wrote. What else?