Five days passed.
I worked. Maintained the information exchange with Jamie. Collaborated on cases with Sherlock and Joan. The partnership continued under its new terms — they knew I had impossible knowledge, I knew they were watching me more carefully than before. We operated in an equilibrium built on mutual utility and carefully negotiated trust.
But something was shifting. I could feel it in the pattern of Jamie's requests.
She'd been asking about Sherlock more frequently — his movements, his cases, his relationships. At first, it seemed like normal intelligence gathering. Jamie was thorough about everything, and Sherlock was a significant player in New York's investigative landscape.
But the questions had become more specific. His emotional state. His recovery from London. His vulnerability to certain kinds of manipulation.
I recognized the pattern from the Memory Palace. Jamie was preparing to move against Sherlock directly. The Irene reveal was approaching.
"She's planning something," I told Vex that evening, reviewing the intelligence requests from the past two weeks.
"When isn't she planning something?"
"This is different. She's gathering information about his psychology, his weaknesses, the specific ways he can be hurt." I spread the requests across my desk. "She's not just watching him anymore. She's positioning."
"The woman who destroyed him once is preparing to do it again."
"Or something like it. The timeline has shifted — I don't know exactly how this plays out now — but the basic pattern is the same. She's going to reveal herself. She's going to show him that everything he thought he knew about Irene Adler was a lie."
Vex studied me with those ancient eyes. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Warn him. As much as I can without explaining how I know."
"That's risky. He'll want to know why you're warning him about someone from his past that you shouldn't know about."
"I've already admitted to impossible knowledge. One more impossible thing won't change the equation much." I stood up, grabbing my jacket. "Besides, if I don't warn him, and she destroys him again... I'm not sure he survives it this time."
"You care about him."
"He's my partner. He's the closest thing to a friend I have in this world besides you." I paused at the door. "And he deserves better than what she has planned."
---
I met Sherlock at a coffee shop near the brownstone — neutral ground, public enough to feel casual, private enough for serious conversation.
He arrived with the particular energy of someone working multiple cases simultaneously, his mind clearly occupied by problems I couldn't see. But he noticed something in my expression when he sat down.
"You look concerned," he said.
"I am concerned."
"About?"
I took a sip of my coffee, organizing my words carefully. This had to be precise — enough to warn him, not enough to reveal how much I knew.
"The people who hurt you the most," I said, "are the ones who know you best. Be careful who you let that close again."
Sherlock went still. The restless energy that characterized him in normal conversation vanished, replaced by something more guarded. More vulnerable.
"That's an unusually specific warning."
"It's meant to be."
"You're talking about London."
"I'm talking about the kind of person who would study you carefully enough to understand exactly how to break you. And then do it because they could." I met his eyes directly. "Someone like that doesn't just disappear. They wait. They plan. They find the perfect moment to remind you why you stopped trusting people."
Sherlock's hand trembled slightly around his coffee cup. I watched him suppress it with visible effort — the physical manifestation of wounds that hadn't healed, memories that still carried weight.
"You know things about me I haven't told you," he said.
"I know enough to worry."
"About what specifically?"
"About the fact that the story you tell yourself about your past isn't complete. There are arcs you haven't read yet. And when they reveal themselves..." I paused. "I want you to be ready. That's all."
He was quiet for a long moment, processing. I could see him building theories — how I might know about London, what sources might have given me information about his history, why I would choose this moment to warn him.
"This is connected to your impossible knowledge," he said finally.
"Most things are."
"You know something about what's coming. Something you can't tell me directly."
"Something I'm not sure how to tell you. The timeline has shifted enough that I can't be certain of specifics anymore. But the general pattern..." I shook my head. "Be careful, Sherlock. Be ready. And when something happens that makes you question everything you thought you knew — remember that I warned you first."
He didn't ask for more details. He understood, on some level, that I'd told him as much as I could.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For the warning."
"Thank me by surviving what's coming."
I stood to leave, and he didn't try to stop me. But as I walked toward the door, he called out:
"Cash?"
I turned.
"If you knew something specific about who was going to hurt me... you would tell me, wouldn't you? Even if it violated whatever rules govern your impossible knowledge?"
I thought about Jamie. About Irene Adler. About the woman who'd studied Sherlock well enough to destroy him and then waited years for the perfect moment to reveal the scope of her manipulation.
"I would tell you," I said. "If I knew for certain. But some things... some things have to play out. I don't understand all the rules of what's happening to me, but I know that trying to prevent everything would break something important."
"A curious answer from someone who claims to want to help."
"It's the most honest answer I can give."
I walked out into the Manhattan evening, leaving Sherlock alone with a warning he couldn't fully understand and a fear he couldn't fully articulate.
Somewhere in the city, Jamie Moriarty was preparing her next move. The Irene reveal was approaching. And all I could do was make sure Sherlock wasn't completely blindsided when it arrived.
Warnings only mattered if they came in time.
I hoped mine had.
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