Hello all! This is my first Sweeney Todd/Sweenett fanfic and I'm so excited to write more! I watched it recently (the original with Angela Lansbury and Geroge Hearn) and thought it was an absolute masterpiece, definitely in my top 5 favorite musicals. This will be a few chapters, I haven't really decided yet, but more is to come. I hope you all enjoy! Please comment and send feedback if you can!

I do not own Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street :)

(Rated M for future chapters)

Chapter One

Nellie Lovett listened to the ever so common shifting of feet upstairs in Sweeney's barbershop above her mostly silent pie shop. Night had fallen and darkness had swept down every corner of the lonely, dirty Fleet Street, engulfing into the night. She had closed up the pie shop early today, the intense wave of tiredness had hit her abruptly making the last few pies for evening customers that came in. She dreaded nights like last night, laying in her hard bed, staring at the ceiling, not an ounce of tiredness in her. She had almost gone up to Sweeney's shop for some company, but at the last moment, she didn't, fearing that he, her love, wouldn't be in the best of moods this time at night, probably with a bottle of gin in his hand and holding his razor, looking out into the night, drinking his sorrows away.

She was about to send Toby down to the grocer for some more flour and butter she needed for tomorrow before she heard the sound of glass shattering on the ground in Sweeny's room. She jumped in surprise and put her hand to her chest. What on earth is he doin up 'ere?

Toby gave her a frightening stare, and she put her hand to his cheek.

"Don't worry love, 'ell calm down. Why don't ya go to the store now? I'll see what's the matter with Mr. T."

"Yes, Mum" he whispered worriedly, and she gave him a couple of coins from her dress pocket and he was off.

She watched him leave, making sure he was well down the street till she went up to the stairs of the barbershop. Surely he doesn't have a customer makin all that fuss?

She looked up to see that the sign was turned to closed, and she sighed in relief. She would never, ever walk into his shop while he was "working." She already had to go through the gruesome butchering with him down in the bakehouse four times a week.

She knocked gently, "Mister T.? Is everything alright love?"

"I'm fine!" he yelled loudly, clearly distraught about something. She frowned, Tis is one of those nights. She looked at his doorknob. The number of men that turn this doorknob and never walked out of tis shop again, if only they knew what was in store for them once they sat in his barber chair.

"Are ya sure? I'm comin in!"

He was sitting at his small desk in the corner of the room by the window, the gin bottles glass shattered all across the floor, his head in his hands. The window was open, letting in a soft breeze of cool air in the stuffy room. She noticed his hand was bleeding, the blood dripping down his arm and landing on his pants.

"Oh Mista T!, you're bleeding!" She rushed to his side and grabbed his injured hand, her hand getting smeared with blood. He tugged his hand aggressively away from her touch, holding his head up.

"What do you want?"

"I...I just heard a crash and was worried 'bout ya love."

He grunted and stood up, walking away from her and his desk and grabbing one of his bloody rags by his chair, pressing it against his cut. "You don't have to worry about me…"

"Well, what am I 'pose to do when I hear a crash downstairs comin from ya room, huh!?" she puffed, staring at him with her hands on her hips.

"Just get out….."

"Not until I fix up ya hand, love." she reached out for his hand but he slapped her away.

"I SAID GET OUT!"

And with that, she stormed out and quickly and rushed into her own shop, annoyed and truthfully, hurt. Why does he 'ave to act this way all the time? I 'ave done nothing but be nice to him. I cook, I clean, I give 'em company. Why doesn't he return the damn favor?

She ran into her dirty kitchen, expecting Toby to be back for some reason, but he wasn't yet. She sighed and looked around the room, looking for something occupy her mind. She grabbed the dough that she had been neating earlier that day and her rolling pin and began to massage it, pound it, releasing her frustration out on the darn thing. She started ripping at the dough, her fingernails shredding it apart to bits, hot tears forming in her tired eyes. I do everything for him… She finally stopped after a while, leaning over the counter and burying her face into her floured hands, sobbing. Nellie could never keep her emotions bottled up like Mr. Todd. She didn't know how he did it.

Breathing in strongly, she lifted her head and departed to her room, shutting the door quietly. She walked to her dressing table in the side of the room and looked at herself in the undusted mirror, seeing her puffy eyes and red cheek. Groaning in disgust, she got undressed and wrapped her pink dressing gown around herself, grabbing the daily paper she left on her nightstand. She could still hear Sweeney walking around up there, but it sounded like he was coming down the stairs. He's gonna try an get more blasted gin and drink himself to death..

She heard his footsteps suddenly outside her door. "Mrs. Lovett?"

She did not want to speak to him, but he knocked again. Rolling her eyes, she got up and opened the door. "What is it?"

His eyes fell to hers and he stood up straighter, half expecting her to answer.

"I'm sorry…"

"You aren't. You do tis once a week. You've made me quite upset this time!"

He frowned. "Well...I am, if it doesn't seem like it."

"Prove it."

"Have a drink with me in the parlor?"

She smiled a tad, her eyes dropping as she scanned him from head to toe. He could always do this, and she could never stay mad at him for long. She adored him too much.

"As much as I object to ya drinking Mister T, I guess I will join ya."

He smiled lightly, if it even weren't a smile technically, it made his eyes looking less downcasted. She shut her door behind her and he followed as they walked into the kitchen to get the new bottle of gin in the cabinet she tried so hard to hide from him.

"Where's the boy?" Sweeney said curiously, sitting at the table and watching her pour the drinks.

"I sent 'em out to the grocer for some flour and butter."

She carefully took the two glasses off the counter and set them down on the table, pulling a chair out next to him and sitting down.

"So what's givin ya a fuss tonight love?" She asked, laying back in her chair and looking at him.

He took a sip of his gin, his nerves relaxing ever so slightly. "You know."

She exhaled loudly, "I say tis to ya all the time love, but ya can't keep dwelling on the past. It's not healthy. It's made ya into an alcoholic."

"I am not an alcoholic." He growled, his eyes flashing with annoyance.

She shrugged her shoulders, taking her glass and sipping from it. He watched her.

"How many today?" she said quietly, breaking the awkward silence.

"Three."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"I would never lie to you."

"Well gosh, we got enough for a week!" she grabbed his hand in elation.

He turned his head and looked at her pale, thin hand on his. She smiled at him, her thumb rubbing against his rough knuckles. "Did ya hear me?"

"Yes."

She got up from her chair and walked to him, putting her hands softly on his shoulders, massaging them with her fingers gently. "Oh, Mister Todd… ya remind me so much of a little boy."

She bent down and smelled his hair, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and chest. He did not protest or flinch, her warmth making him feel sort of safe, comfortable in a way from his darkening, melancholy thoughts. She could only be his real relief in this wicked world, even when he was mad at himself.

His hand let go of his glass and he placed it on her hand that was on his shoulder, the warmness of it smoldering the coldness of his. He squeezed it, sighing at her soft touch.

"What little boy slits men's throats?"

"I was only teasing ya, love."

Suddenly the front door swung open and Toby came trotting in, carrying a bag of flour that was half the size of his body and a skinny stick of butter, his torso covered in particles of the white powder.

"I'm back Mum!"

Mrs. Lovett removed her arms around Sweeney and stood up straight, a warm smile spreading across her pale face. She walked over to Toby.

"Thank ya, love." taking the flour and butter, she walked over to the counter and set the huge bag down, a puff of white dust flying into the air.

"'Ello Mr. Todd…" the boy said shyly, not expecting him to be down here with his Mum. He was afraid of him and felt uneasy when he saw Sweeney's cold, pale, strong face watching him.

"O look at the time! Off to bed Toby.."

His face turned into a disappointed pout, and she kissed him on the head.

"Goodnight Mum.."

"Goodnight dear."

He slugged his shoulders as he walked past the living room and into the hallway, Nellie listening for the shut of his door.

Meanwhile, Sweeney had his head in his hands, his arms crossed across the table.

She approached him, "Maybe ya need to go to bed too.."

He shook his head under his arms, "No."

She sat back down beside him, lifting her legs and putting them in his lap under the table. He lifted his head and looked up at her, confused. She noticed the tears.

"Please don't be sad, love. When you're sad, I'm sad."

"Then I'll go."

He stood up abruptly, turning to leave, but she grabbed his arm. "No..don't go, not now.."

Sweeney stared into her pleading brown eyes. The yearning in her voice shielding him. Why is she so fond of me?

"Let's go sit by the fire...surely that will make ya feel comfortable, love." she whispered.

She led him into the living room, which was only dimly lit by the orange light of the small fire that was burning in the fireplace. She sat down on the sofa, patting the space beside her for him to sit. He hesitated, but sat down anyway. She took his hand into his and looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. She noticed how stiff he was, and how he was not blinking as he stared at the burning fire.

"Relax…" she soothed, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I'll be closed tomorrow."

Her eyebrow lifted, confused. "Why, love?"

"I doubt I will have enough energy or a clear head tomorrow."

"Well...it's fine with me if ya do. We 'ave enough of everything.." her hand pulled away from his and she wrapped around his own arm.

"Maybe I will be closed tomorrow, god knows I need a day off…"

They sat for a long moment in silence, watching the fire burn and crackle, relaxing underneath each others touch. She leaned her head to the side and rested it on his strong shoulder. What their life could be..she wondered.

"Maybe we could go into town?" she said, her eyes drooping. "I could buy you something nice if ya like dear."

"I'll think about it." he said firmly, still looking off in a daze.

She rolled her eyes, sitting up. She knew that meant no.

"Well...I'm off to bed then." she got up, irked by his attitude, his hand falling from hers. He watched as she walked off to her room, not looking back behind her at him.

"The nerve he's got!" she scoffed to herself as she untied her robe. She threw it down on the chair by the dressing table and laid down, pulling the covers up to her chest.

A soft knock on her door echoed in the room. What the bloody hell does he want now? Won't even listen to me!

"What is it, Sweeney!?"

No reply. She groaned and got out of bed and swung the door open. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry. Again."

"Well, for the second time today. Do you actually mean it this time?"

"Yes."

She glared at him, her large brown eyes studying his face.

"Ok, Mr. T. I accept your apology." she smiled and leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Now go get some rest."

His cheek reddened, the spot where she had kissed him tingled slightly. "I…"

She was about to shut the door until she heard him mumble. "Yes, dear?" she fully faced him again, searching his eyes. A tiny spark of excitement filling her body.

"I'm going to stay down here for a while if that is alright with you."

Her eyes enlarged, and she extended her hand to him, taking his into hers. His sudden wanting and slight "affection" making her beam. "Alright. I'm here if ya need anything."

He nodded. "Goodnight.."

"Goodnight Sweeney."

She gave him a playful wink and slowly shut the door. He stood there for a moment, looking at the wooden, white frame. Was he really that drunk to have said those foolish things? What was he thinking? He should just take the bottle and run back to his cold retreat.

Before he knew it he had crashed onto the couch, the bottle of gin in his hand and one of Mrs. Lovett's knitted, scratchy blankets wrapped around his well-built frame. He took meager sips of the liquor, closing his worn eyes, trying to picture his Lucy again. He attempted every night, imagining what she looked like again, feeling horrid that he lost the memory of her beautiful face. He didn't even have a picture of her. I should stop trying, I've lost her anyway.

Sweeney set the bottle down on the ground next to him, curling up on the cushioned side of the sofa, facing the shelf by the fireplace. Noticing the line of small paintings, his eyes fell upon a photo of Mrs. Lovett, smiling widely from ear to ear, holding a small cat right in front of her meat pie shop. He smiled, still gazing at it. He has never seen her look that lively or joyful. Maybe I could make her smile that wide one day, he thought.