Broken Hearts And Razors ||| A Sweenett story

Unexpected Visitor

"Was she in there?"

"Yes, my lord, right in the shop."

"Good... Was there anyone else there?"

"No my lord, just her, passed out in one of the booths I presume".

"Not even the poor excuse of a barber?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't say that-"

"Since when do I ask for your opinion, Mr Bamford?" The words were falling slowly from the man's lips, his tone dark and low, a hint of warning in his voice.

The room, or more accurately hall, was dimly lit with a candle, the moonlight blocked by the parade of clouds that seemed to be marching in the sky, sending thunder and rain down to the dark London streets at midnight.

"I just thought-"

"You're not to think, my friend, you're to obey my orders." The tall man dipped a pale white feather into the black ink, permanently staining the pearly white quill with the dark substance. A silence fell over the room, only the silent scribbling of the quill on the paper could be heard.

"Henry," The Judge motioned to the man in the back of the hall, "have this letter delivered to 186 Fleet Street in the early morning, will you?"

The man slowly nodded, taking the letter from The Judge's cold hand, the skin of his palm almost making him grimace at how dead it felt beneath his warm fingers. He took one look back at the two men in the room and left without saying a word.

"Now," The Judge turned to The Beadle as an evil smile etched itself onto his face," may we proceed."

****=****

Sweeney Todd awoke at three in the morning, his mind had finally allowed itself to rest, and he finally felt peace for a few seconds before the horrible reality came washing over him. Too afraid to get lost in those thoughts once more, the barber craved for some gin to quench his thirst. Putting on his freshly pressed shirt and vest that he'd found at the foot of his bed, Sweeney walked out of the barbershop into the stormy cold night air. A strong gust of wind harshly blew into his face, almost knocking him out of balance, but the man did not budge, determination evident in his step. Reaching the door, Sweeney knocked, expecting for the baker to answer but receiving no sounds from the inside he fished a spare key from under the dirty mat, unlocking the old squeaky backdoor. Whatever he was prepared to see, it wasn't this. The Devil's wife was sitting in the corner, snoring away soundly. Even in sleep, her face was tense, contorted as if in pain, quiet mumbles escaping her lips. 

Eleanor Lovett couldn't be at peace even in her sleep.

Reaching for the alcohol cabinet, Sweeney subconsciously didn't tear his eyes away from the woman cluelessly sleeping in the corner. her eyebags were dark and sunken, her eyebrows furrowed in a distressed manner. She'd mumble a few incoherent words there and then, but he couldn't make most of them out, and ones that he did, like "hippopotamus", he couldn't understand the context of. 
One of the woman's hands was flung over the seat, slightly swaying and almost touching the dusty floor, while the other one calmly rested on her belly. Slowly, Sweeney pried his eyes away from the alluring woman, unaware of his actions, to get the glass of gin he so desired, until...

"Benjamin..."

Sweeney hadn't heard that name in so long. In fact, the only two times he had heard it after having escaped from prison were both said by her. He swiftly turned to face the blasted woman once again, preparing to lash out at her...
...but Mrs Lovett was snoring away, unaware of her slip up. She had rolled onto her other side, almost falling from the seats onto the hard wooden floor, balancing only on the arm that was dangling by her side. Forgetting about the gin he was so determined to drink just seconds ago, Sweeney walked up to the baker. Truth to be told, he was quite intrigued by what the baker was dreaming about and judging by the tear that escaped the woman's eye it couldn't have been the best of dreams. He was only about 3 feet away from the sleeping redhead when suddenly she shot up from her sleeping position screeching in horror and it was seconds before he had a dagger pointing right at his face.