A/N: This is my very first fanfic on here, so don't be overcritical, but if you have any constructive criticism please, by all means share it.
This was just some random idea I thought of when I drew this picture
http:// limitlessdreams. /art/A-Young-Nellie-Lovett-73857253 (remove the spaces and you're golden)
Enjoy! Try not to laugh at it too much! Please read/review! Love y'alls.
"Nellie! Nellie!"
She was lacing up the front of her favorite purple dress when she heard him call. Still fumbling with the laces, she stuck her head out of the window of her second-story room. A thin layer of smog rested on the chimney tops of Victorian London and distorted the early morning autumn sunlight to a grayish yellow color.
"What?" She yelled, scanning the crowd for the familiar face of her best friend. Ah, there he was; favorite green cap jammed crookedly on top of his mess of wild black curls, knapsack slung over one shoulder, and familiar cheeky smirk on his face.
"Hurry down, my sweet, or my heart shall pine!" he cried exaggeratedly, one hand over his heart. She smiled at his antics.
"I shall make haste, my love; I would not wish your dear heart pain?" she sighed, throwing a hand across her forehead dramatically, fluttering her eyelashes. He blew her a kiss goofily. Turning back into her room, she finished hooking up her boots, stuck her knife into a handy spot in her stocking, and hurried downstairs.
"Who were you shouting to, love?" yelled her mother over the dull roar of five boys eating breakfast in their cramped and dark kitchen. Nellie was the only girl in a family of eight, and the eldest child at fourteen. Her father was a tailor, and he had already left for work.
"Nellie's got a sweetheart, Nellie's got a sweetheart!" crowed her eldest brother Davy, two years her junior, as he shoveled sausages onto his plate from the hearth. Nellie calmly stuck her foot out and tripped him flat on his face as he made his way back to his seat.
"It wasn't that Todd boy again, was it?" her mother looked at her sharply, stepping over Davy's sprawled figure. Her mother didn't approve of Sweeney, instantly assuming that the only reason they were so close was because he was trying to get into her knickers. Nellie sighed and ignored her like she usually did as she fought to get to the door, kicking and clobbering any brothers that got in her way. When she finally made it to the street, she inhaled deeply--and promptly started coughing, momentarily forgetting that her front door was right near an open trench.
"So Nell, me love, what mischief shall we curse London with today?" Sweeney sauntered over from his post under her window. They always addressed each other in foolishly endearing terms like "My sweet," and "My love," to mock the blithering old women who tapped their noses knowingly and swore they would end up married one day. They both knew this would never happen, but they constantly mocked the idea to ease the awkwardness between them.
"Well, my darling Sweeney, I had thought we might wait by the tavern, and convince drunken idiots to part with their money." He looked doubtful, and shook his head.
"No, my dear, if you recall we did that last week. Anyways," he continued, smirking, "I heard a new ship will be docking in the harbor today. Drunken sailors are far easier to persuade than the everyday moron." Her eyes sparkled and she grinned.
"Wonderful! Let's go!" Sweeney readied himself for a race, then stopped as a sudden thought lit up his handsome features.
"Wait a moment, love. There's some Warf rat I picked up on the way to your handsome abode that I thought I'd bring along for a laugh," He turned around and whistled, clear and sharp. "Boy!" he yelled.
"Coming!" A young tenor voice answered as a small figure bolted towards them. He halted, panting and eager in front of Sweeney. "Here!" he chirped. Nellie looked hime over. He had blonde hair cut just below his ears and bright blue eyes. His shoes were scuffed, but the rest of his clothes looked nice and clean, much cleaner than Nellie's dress or Sweeney's shirt. He had a bright happy face, and looked up at Sweeney like he was a god or something. Sweeney smirked.
"Nell, this is Anthony, Anthony this is Nellie," he introduced him.
"Pleasure to meet you, Anthony," she addressed him, smiling at him warmly. Anthony grinned up at her (he was at least a head shorter than the both of them), one of his front teeth missing.
"The pleasure's all mine!" he lisped slightly. He never stopped smiling, and beamed, looking as pleased as punch to be standing in the near vicinity of them.
"Found him at the harbor, did you?" she said to Sweeney, who was still smirking.
"He was looking at all of the ships, weren't you Anthony," Anthony nodded vigorously.
"I'm gonna be a sailor when I grow up!" he said proudly, puffing out his chest. Nellie laughed.
"You'll make the enemy quake in their boots, you will," she said, reaching out to muss up his hair. "How old are you, Anthony?"
He thought for a moment. "Twelve!" he grinned again, showing the gap his missing tooth made in his smile.
Sweeney squatted down to look him eye to eye. "Now Anthony," he began, mock sternly, "On the way here you told me you were nine years old. Now you say you're twelve. Care to tell us how old you really are?"
Anthony scuffed the cobblestones with the toe of his shoe. "Seven." He mumbled, not meeting their eyes.
Sweeney threw his head back and laughed, long and loud. Surprised, Anthony raised his eyes. Still chuckling, Sweeney threw his arm around his shoulders.
"Come, child," he said grandly, steering him towards the harbor. "Come along with Nell and me; we'll show you London as not seen from," he paused, looking at Anthony's nice clothes, "your class." He snickered again, and strode off, Anthony in tow.
Smiling, Nellie shook her head and followed them both into the early morning market hustle and bustle.
