I usually don't like musicals, but I'll make an exception for this one, as it happens to have become one of my FAVORITE MOVIES EVER!! Anyways I thought it'd be interesting to continue the story a bit.

I don't own any of this. It belongs to a bunch of other people, Stephen Sondheim and Tim Burton included.

Hope you enjoy.

When Anthony returned to the pie shop with a coach, the last thing he expected was to see was the horrible specter that came careening down the stairs towards him.

"Mr. Todd!" he cried, "What has happened?" Sweeney didn't answer. He kept walking, but as he passed under one of the lamps that hung about the place Anthony started even worse and said, "My God… are you injured, sir?"

"Out of my way," Sweeney growled at him.

"But Mr. Todd, you're covered with blood!" Anthony then made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He grasped Sweeney's arm and restrained him from leaving.

In a wink, he found himself pressed against the building, a bloody razor pressed to his neck and Sweeney Todd's watery, rage-filled eyes boring into his own. "M-Mr. Todd?" he whimpered.

Sweeney flinched, and the madness fled his features. Slowly and fearfully he backed away from the sailor, his weapon held up in warning, until his back met a door. With a happy tinkling, he slipped into his neighbor's shop.

Anthony had half a mind to pursue his friend, but then a dreadful suspicion took hold of him. Mr. Todd had just come from his place drenched in blood and holding a weapon. A disguised Johanna had been left at Mr. Todd's to wait for the coach. Anthony's mind made the horrible connection and he bolted up the stairs.

He burst through the door and stared around in horror. The place was covered with almost as much blood as Sweeney, and there was a body in the barber's chair. He could tell by the hat it was Johanna, but her knees were drawn up, her hands were clinging to the arms, and she was rigid. He gently touched her arm and said her name, hoping against hope that she was not dead.

At the touch and soft noise, the poor girl jumped with a yelp. When she saw who it was, she buried her face in his chest, not sobbing, nor shedding a single tear, but just trembling away her fright in his protective warmth.

"That man," her voice was strangely steady, "he was going to kill me."

Her savior soothingly stroked her back and said, "Mr. Todd?… he would never hurt you."

Carefully he eased her into standing and began to walk with her out of that place. "Come now. We must fly from here before the Judge comes looking for us."

The girl stopped moving and stiffened even more. "He already did," she said. "He's dead."

"What do you mean?" Anthony let go of his embrace and held her by the shoulders at arms length.

"That man killed him, and Lucy too, and I think the Beadle got it before we came, from what she said."

"Who's Lucy?"

Johanna met his eyes dreamily. "A beggar who used to clutch to my clothes and sing nonsense whenever Turpin took me out. He would never let me go anywhere if she was around, and she was always there. She's dead now, though. All of them who plagued me… he killed them all…"

She looked like she was about to faint, so Anthony jostled her a bit and asked, "Who killed them? Who could murder three people?" He didn't want to be rough on her, but if there was a homicidal madman on the loose he had to know what to look for.

"The barber," she answered. "He had a blade, and blood… he was covered in so much of it."

Anthony let go as though burned by her. "No," he murmured, "no, not Sweeney Todd. He wouldn't do something like… like this," he gestured at the blood stained walls.

Finally the young woman jolted out of her shock. She gently took the hand of her upset savior and shook her head. "Turpin knew him. He called him Benjamin Barker, not Todd."

The Sailor let his breath escape and, hearing the whistle of the coach, lead her out. When he reached the street though, he hesitated and looked back to the eerily silent building. He placed his hands once more on Johanna's shoulders and said, "Forgive me, but I must leave you again. My friend went in there you see, and if this Barker person is still around killing people I must warn him."

Nodding she said, "I'm coming with you."

"No, it's much too danger-"

"I'm not afraid," she cut him off.

The Sailor gave her a momentary pleading look, then turned to the coachman. "Will you wait here for us, please?"

The gruff, portly man shrugged and said, "Whatever's yer fancy, sir. Jus' remember it when's tippin' time."

Together the young couple headed back into the den of horrors they had just escaped.

Inside the shop all was dark and quiet, except for the bit of flickering firelight and the sound of shuffling footsteps that came from a door heading to the cellar.

Anthony stood at the top of the stairs and watched as a young boy came out from down below. The poor wretch was pale as a sheet and had dark, sunken eyes; easily recognized as shock. He didn't notice any other presence as he slowly ascended from the light, that is until Anthony went down to him and said, "Young man?"

The boy gasped in fear and turned to dash away, but Anthony was too quick, catching him by the arm. He was instantly thrown into madness, and thrashed and screamed so violently that his captor had to sit on the stars in order for the two of them not to plummet. Gently, Anthony tried to hold him still until he quieted. Johanna too squeezed herself into the stairwell and managed to get her arms around him, holding him close.

He calmed much more at her touch than from the man's, so Anthony let go and sat back. "There, there," Johanna expertly cooed, "You're all right, nothing's going to harm you…" but he started sobbing at that. "Come now, what's all this for?" she asked.

"Mrs. Lovett… and the pies…" he whimpered, "e threw 'er in the oven like the pies. And they're full of people… people. The grinder, it 'as fingers and 'ands and feet and eyes and 'e killed 'er so I killed 'im!"

"Poor lad seems to have lost it," Anthony whispered. "I'm going to check what happened down there. I'll only be a moment."

The first thing saw was the glinting blade on the floor. Like a story, his eyes followed the almost luminous droplets of blood to the sorrowful tapestry that sat in the middle of the dark chamber. Sweeney Todd knelt on the cold stone, cradling the corpse of an old beggar woman, his back hunched over her and his face hidden by his dark hair.

"Mr. Todd?" Anthony ventured. There was no answer and, as he approached the scene, he noticed that Sweeney looked far older than he had ever seen him. He also noticed the trembling of his friend and the little rivulets that dripped onto the corpse. "Mr. Todd!" he cried, rushing over just in time catch the man in mid slump before he hit the floor.

The old woman dropped away as Sweeney lay there, the trembling becoming more violent from blood loss. He became aware of himself for a moment long enough to try and claw Anthony away, but the Sailor would not be dissuaded. Anthony held him down with one hand, murmuring, "Steady now… steady…" while he used the other to tilt his friend's head back and assess the damage.

The wound wasn't deep. In fact it was barely more than a nick, but there was so much blood… Anthony feared an artery might have been cut, but didn't know enough about physiology to check for sure or do anything about it. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and tried to stop the bleeding with it, but he couldn't apply any of the needed pressure without strangling Sweeney.

"Leave me be," the barber managed to whisper weakly.

Anthony forced a smile and said, "Nonsense, Mr. Todd. I'm not letting any friend of mine die in some loathsome bake house…" At the last word he realized he had a way to save his friend.

He got up and searched the room, taking in the corpses, the grinder full of human remains, the pile of bones stuffed in a corner, the stench of rotting and burning flesh… taking in all of it, and yet none of it. Just like in a storm at sea, he noticed all the details, but focused only on what he needed, which he found in large sacks at the back.

With a pocketknife he sliced open the topmost sack and scooped up as much of the flower inside as he could fit in both hands, then returned to the now unconscious barber's side. He peeled back the drenched cloth and replaced it with a sprinkling of flour. Instantly the blood soaked into it and thickened. The more he added, the more it coagulated until he was stuffing it into the wound. Not only did it stop the flow, but it also hardened into a malleable plaster, as effective as any bandage. He might have feared clots, but he would let a surgeon worry about that later.

Just as Anthony was finishing up, he was hit with a whirling mass of child. The boy from the stairway jumped him from behind and was beating at him, screaming, "WHY ARE YOU BLOODY 'ELPING 'IM?!?"

Johanna rushed over and had him in her arms again. "I'm sorry," she said urgently to Anthony, "You took so long and I was worried."

He shook his head to tell her she needn't apologize, then patted the boy and said, "Easy son, what's all this?"

The boy looked at him with unexpected ice. "You're 'elping the devil 'imself, sir."

"I know this man… he's not-"

The boy tried to wrench himself from Johanna's arms. "You know 'im? You KNOW 'IM!?! Than you know, sir, that 'e's the one's been killing all them men wot gone missin'… and my Pirelli… and Mrs. Lovett. 'E… 'e must 'a forced 'er to bake 'em up…" He fell silent and still.

Johanna looked from the man on the floor to Anthony and said, "He's right. That's the man who killed Turpin. If he's your Mr. Todd than… I'm sorry…"

Again Anthony shook his head. He looked down at his friend, his mind taxed. He wasn't disbelieving, not at all. It had been hard for him to avoid accepting this truth before now…

In the silence, the boy started whimpering again. "Will they send me back to the workhouse now? Or the noose? Will they 'ang me for killin' Mr. Todd?"

"Tell me son, what's your name?" Anthony asked softly.

"T-Toby."

The sailor smiled. "Well Toby," he said, "this lady and I are going very far away from here. What say you come with us?"

Toby peered at him warily and answered, "I'd like that very much, sir."

"It's settled then, but," he took a deep breath, "I'd like you to know that Mr. Todd's coming too." When Toby shrank fearfully away from that he went on. "I believe what you're saying about him, but I can't just leave him here to die." He was meeting Johanna's eyes, looking for her approval as well. "Please, he won't be able to hurt anyone the way he is now."

Toby made no noise either way, but Johanna slowly nodded.

Soon the barber's few belongings were retrieved and the four convicts were packed into the coach, trundling off to whatever the future held for them.