"Oh, I'm glad you follow." His voice was laced with sarcasm, but he still meant it, in a way. If whoever is subjected to his long discourses is understanding his train of thought, that meant his logical foundations for any theories that might pop up after finding more evidence would be sound. Though of course, he knew they couldn't see the whole picture he did. No one ever would.

"She wasn't killed here, but she was here the day she died. If I can reconstruct what she was doing up until that point, it will be easier to know what led to her death. I already know she was having a night on the town, where she went to eat, and that she met a man. Any present flings had alibis, so more than likely she met with someone new. Thought they had better education here on the perils of strangers." Sherlock put his latex gloves back on and turned to face Dunbar's desk. Absentmindedly, he glances at the office's customary American flag in the corner.

"Speaking of which, I'd have that burned. Respectfully, of course." It'd be more respectful than what he could tell she'd used it for.