This idea just came to me and would NOT leave me alone until I at least ATTEMPTED to make something of it. So, enjoy!

Sweeney:you want I do the disclaimer?

James:No, barber, allow me

Sweeney:I ask first :(

James: I said I was going to!

Nellie:Oh, jus' Shut up! you can both do it!

Sweeney: Inuyasha does not own me because if she did, I'd be n her closet

me: :T bleh

James: and if she owned Nellie...well, that's not exactly something anyone would want to imagine.

Nellie: -O_o-

Sweeney Todd finished his quote about the world and it's terrible inhabitants as his old home came into view. Rounding the corner of yet another Grey looking building, The barber stood still for a moment, letting the buildings new grimly and run-down appearance soak in.

As he pushed the door open slowly, Sweeney quickly took notice of his old landlady as she gave a sad sigh as she continued to chop up vegetables at a monotone.

Pulling her eyes away from her work, Mrs. Lovett let out a gasp of surprise when she saw a rather dashing looking man at her establishment's front door.

"A customer!" she exclaimed in an enthusiastic whisper, stabbing her large butcher knife in the wooden cutting board.

The barber stood there, frozen to the ground as he took in the baker's appearance. There were dark circles under her eyes as well as flour on her raggedy dress and in her rat's nest of dark and dull red hair. Her ghostly pale skin reassured him of how dark London had seemed to become since he was taken away.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt her small, yet rough gloved hands grab his shoulders and pull him more into the room.

"Yeh gave me fright, ya did!" The baker giggled a hollow laugh. "Thought you was a ghost, I did!" she continued. "Why don' ya sit yerself down!" Mrs. Lovett then shoved him in a nearby booth.

"Come for a pie, did ya? Sorry if me 'ead seems a li'l vague," she motioned to her head lazily. "'Aven't seen a customer for so lon' I'm guessin' I lost some o' me marbles!" she chuckled out loud.

The barber said nothing. He just sat there as he continued to watch her. When her laughing subsided, she sighed happily, "Then again, maybe tha's part o' the reason me pies are called the 'Worst pies of London' I guess".

The baker passed him a small plate with a very unappetizing pie on it. Not wanting to see how crazy she seems her self to be, Sweeney picked it up slowly, sniffed it, only to gag slightly, and very cautiously bit into it.

He paused. For a moment, he thought she had poisoned him.

Mrs. Lovett grinned slightly as she rested her head in her hand on the counter. "Yeah, I know its disgustin', wot with the price o' meat rising every bloody day me pies don' 'ave much o' 'quality' meat in 'em. Times is hard." she sighed sadly.

While she jabbered on about her pies and some competitor, Mrs. Mooney, The barber waited until her back was turned to spit the revolting pastry onto the floor. He grimaced as a bug crawled out of said pastry.

Catching both gestures from the corner of her eye, The baker's grin widened slightly. "Trust me deary, It'll more than all the ale I've got to wash tha' taste ou'." she said.

Standing up and walking slowly away from the counter, she said roughly, "Come wit m, I'll ge' you a nice tumbler o' gin, eh?" she mused.

The barber didn't hesitate to follow at the thought of alcohol. He heard her pouring the glasses as he stepped into her parlor, A country looking little sitting area with flowery wallpaper.

"Isn't this homey, now," the baker mused, not looking at him. "The wallpaper was a real bargain, too. Was only partly when the chapel burned down. 'Ere ya go." she continued as she handed him his glass.

"You go' a room over the shop," Sweeney spoke suddenly, his voice low and ominous. "If times is so hard, why don' you rent it out?" he asked as she poured herself a glass. "Oh, up there?' she nodded upwards. " No one'll go near I'," she whispered.

"People think its 'aunted."

Th barber's eye brows were raised. "Haunted?" he repeated. "Yeah, bu' whose to say they're wron'," Mrs. Lovett mused as she neared him slowly. "Ya see years ago, somethin' 'appened up there. Somethin' not very nice." With no reply, she continued.

"There was a barber and 'is wife," the baker whispered as she took a seat beside him. "An' she was beautiful, a proper artist with a knife, but they transported him for life, and 'e was beautiful." she sang softly.
"Barker 'is name was, Benjamin Barker." she whispered ominously. "Wot was his crime?" Sweeney asked as he stared at the floor. "Foolishness." replied Mrs. Lovett in a casual tone. The baker looked away as she continued the story.

"He had this wife, ya see, pretty little thing, she was. Why, if she even asked, he'd give the very moon on a string he would," she whispered, a certain sadness creeping in her voice. "Poor thing. The Judge wot sent 'im away had quite a fancy fer her, sent her flowers every day, but she refused to leave the room, doin' nothin' but sitting up there all day, cryin' 'er pretty li'l eyes out.

"Ah, but tha' wasn' even the worst o' it. 'E invited 'er to a ball, which she foolishly accepted, got 'er drunk an' raped the poor dear." Mrs. Lovett instantly felt the barber stiffen, his eyes widen, and saw the glass of gin nearly fall to the floor as it slacked in his limp hands.

"The bastards at the ball jus' stood there an' laughed, terrible blokes they all are-", "NO!" Sweeney screamed as he rose from his seat, the baker jumped and let out a yelp of surprise as she heard the glass shatter against the hard wood floor.

There was a short pause before she heard the man whisper so quietly she almost didn't hear him. "Would no one...have mercy on her?"

Then, it hit her. Mrs. Lovett repressed a gasp as she felt realization hit it like a ton of bricks.

"So it is you...Benjamin Barker..." she breathed heavily, speaking his name like a mantra as she looked up at him, her mouth agape.

"Where is Lucy...where is my wife?' he asked breathlessly, ignoring her statement. "She poisoned 'erself. Arsenic...from the apothecary 'round the corner. I tried to stop 'er, but she wouldn' listen to me." she whispered.

As the baker watched the barber's eyes swell up with tears, she added, "An' 'es got your daughter."

There was a short pause. "He? Judge Turpin?" Sweeney asked through his gritted teeth. Mrs. Lovett could easily feel the waves of anguish and rage coming off him like the heat off her bake oven.

"Adopted 'er...like 'is own." she whispered. The barber then took off his his acket, "Fifteen years, of living 'ell, on a false charge," he threw it the ground. "Fifteen years dreaming, I might come home to a wife and child."

Mrs. Lovett sighed as she stood to stand behind him. "Well, I can' say the years 'ave been particularly kind to you, Mr. Barker-", "No, not barker," he turned on his heel to face her. "That man is dead." The baker looked at him, confused.

"Its Todd now, Sweeney Todd, and he will have his revenge." he whispered darkly. Before wither of them could say or do anything else, the sound of the bells on the door hit their ears.

"Nellie! I'm home!" a man's voice boomed, followed by the sound of the door shutting. Sweeney looked at Mrs. Lovett curiously. "Who's that?" he asked. The Baker fidgeted with her fingers for a moment as she looked at the ground.

"Well..." she started nervously. "Albert died 'bout after you went away, an' like I said, times were 'ard, I couldn't support meself, wot with me pies bein' the worst in London so-", "Oh, there you are!" said a voice behind the pair.

They both turned to see a man in his late forties . His chestnut brown hair Greying, his green eyes sparking, his lower class clothes surprisingly clean to be lower class, and his cheery smile so sweet, Sweeney wanted to hurl.

The man dropped the large brown case he had been carrying at his side as he made his way over to Mrs. Lovett, wrapping her in his arms as he kissed her passionately.

The barber's eyes shot wide at the sight. When the man pulled back, Sweeney could see the blush on the baker's face. The man turned to face him, his smile turning into some sort of wicked grin.

" 'Ello, an' who might you be?" he asked rather suspiciously, keeping his arm secure around Mrs. Lovett's waist. "James, don' be rude!" Mrs. Lovett hushed him as she grabbed his arm lightly.
"This is...Sweeney Todd. 'Es gonna be living in the room up there," she said cheerfully.

James looked at the baker and barber suspiciously before grinning happily again. "Well, Make yerself at 'ome, me names James Stewart. I'm the apothecary 'round the corner." he said cheerfully, grabbing the barber's hand and shaking it. Sweeney just stared wide eyed at him, the intense hunger to kill bubbling in his stomache. Though, he could feel anything at all when he heard James's next words.

"An' I see you've already met me wife, Eleanor Stewart."

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