Mycroft found himself caught in that dark, surprised gaze, and cleared his throat. Tugging his clothes into place, he cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat. If he had any less mental control, he might have even rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I ... have been here since the surgery was completed, and that was about twelve hours ago. You were shot yesterday."

He cleared his throat, pulling his dignity around him as he spoke. "I have arranged things here for you, as you ... well, since I owe you. Again. Your medical bills are on the Government, and the criminals have all been apprehended. I also took the liberty of informing your ex-wife you were here -- and that she was not needed."

He flexed his long fingers on his knees, "...I hope I did not overstep my bounds, there?"