His eyes shifted to the flag, and then back to Sherlock, and then back to the flag. He didn't see anything with it, but all of the sudden, he had the urge that he would probably want to do what he said. At least with that. A new flag was a small price to pay, for hopefully not having something desecrated around City Hall. Then again, Mitchell was something of a prude, in his own, odd way.

"So, if she wasn't killed here, what kind of information is going to come up here? Of course she was here that day, think about who she was fucking working for. People tend to come to work, you know?" he asked, not really moving from his spot in the middle of the room. He didn't know if he wanted to move or not, just in case he managed to slid his foot into a half-dried puddle of semen or something.

These were very expensive shoes, after all.