The Visitor

The Barber's Visit

The Barber's Visit

A story made at the request of my friend, Bridget, who says that she needs something nice to contrast the deeply sombre mood of my other fic. Personally think that I needed to write something more peaceful to ward off my own morose spirits as of late. *Side note that Lucy has passed in this story.*

Sweeney sat in his barber chair as his gaze continually swept over to the suit hanging over the mirror in the corner of his tonsorial parlour. His mind wandered to the peacefully sleeping baker below. He had promised her that he would try to get some sleep as well, tomorrow -thought it was already tomorrow by this time- was going to be a busy day for the pair, but his nerves were keeping him awake. He recalled feeling the exact same way with Lucy as well, so it might be that his nerves were coming from a good place.

He had tried his hardest to deny it at first, and even before then, he had utterly rejected the very idea of ever allowing himself to open his heart to anyone ever again. He had sworn to himself that Lucy had taken his heart with her the moment that she had died, but he had been proven wrong. Every time that he felt himself growing comfortable with the baker, he would premeditatedly treat her abysmally in order to push her away, thinking that she would eventually give up and leave him to his dark thoughts. When his disgusting behaviour only led her to show him more support and patience, however, he knew that his plan wouldn't succeed any time soon. He tried all that he could think of; yelling at her, throwing insults at her, acting disgusted by any display of affection or physical touch that she offered, but to no avail.

It was after they had gone to see Lucy that a slow but marked change in their partnership began to take shape. Sweeney had finally completed his revenge against Turpin and Bamford, he could still recall the moment that he had dragged his friend across the judge's throat as if it had happened mere seconds ago. He had come downstairs to find Mrs. Lovett waiting with a bottle and two glasses, a corner of her lips upturned in an impish smile, with devilishly excited glimmering eyes to match. "Gin's nice an' all, darlin', but I felt a real treat was in order for this moment." His brow lifted, but he returned her smile once he saw the deep red liquid stream from the bottle.

Sweeney had debated on whether he should introduce himself to Johanna, but no matter how much he wanted to see how much his little lamb had grown to resemble her mother, he knew that it was better to let her go.

When Mrs. Lovett has gone to meet her, she had tried to convince him to see Johanna as well, but he couldn't. The few times that the young couple came to see them before leaving London for good, he had stayed in the background, speaking with Anthony about the couple's future plans. Either that, or he kept himself locked up in his shop. Only shaking his daughter's hand and offering her a quiet goodbye on their way out the door for the last time. She had lived a life in the darkness, and he knew that the sailor would bring more light into her deserving young life than his demonic influence ever could.

When Mrs. Lovett had come up to his shop with breakfast one morning, she found him in the same position that she had over the last few days since that night, staring blankly out the large picture window. The plates that held the dinner and small treat that she had brought him the previous night were piled up, discarded food that had only a few bites missing here and there when he absolutely needed to eat something. She released an exasperated sigh before getting in his way, "Right then, you jus' come with me, love." He opened his mouth to protest, but she quickly quieted him with a finger to his lips. "I'll 'ear none of that, just come wiv' me, we're goin' for a little ride, but we need to get something quick first." She grabbed hold of his hand, dragging him into the pie shop to tell Toby that they would be back soon, as she pulled the barber back out and waved down a cabbie.