Well, hello, everyone. This is my first fic, so please be kind.

Mistletoe, a Sweeney Todd fanfiction

Sweeney Todd sat upstairs brooding in his tonsorial parlor. He glared out his window at the grimy city of London, suddenly festooned with sprays of rich green pine, bows and berries in various shades of crimson, and glowing candles in every window. Everyone, rich and poor, went around with ridiculous smiles on their faces. And Mrs. Lovett had been more irritating and cheery than usual.

And speak of the devil! His landlady—and partner in crime—came barging in, holding a market basket. Despite the fact that it was December, she wore one of her trademark lacy black dresses with the ridiculously low neckline and the flouncy skirt. "Mr. To-odd!" she sang. Sweeney looked up at her, grimacing. His dark brown eyes flashed. "What do you want, Mrs. Lovett?"

She was grinning stupidly like she had been every day since December began. "I was at the market jus' now pickin' up things for Christmas dinner . . . an' I bought us these!" Mrs. Lovett gushed, pulling an item out of her basket. It was a red velvet stocking cap trimmed in white fur with a large white pom-pom on the end. Sweeney recognized it as the hat worn by Father Christmas. His dark-circled eyes widened in horror.

"You honestly wasted your money on those? How many did you buy?" the barber asked incredulously. Mrs. Lovett beamed. "One for me, one for Toby, an' one for you, Mistah T!" she exclaimed. She came toward him, holding out one of the ridiculous little hats. Sweeney sprang out of his barber chair and, ducking past Mrs. Lovett, dashed down the narrow stairs.

He ran into the farthest corner of the kitchen, tucking himself into a booth. Sweeney knew Mrs. Lovett would take a little while getting down the stairs, weighed down by her long dark skirts and constricted by her corset. He slowly stood up, listening carefully. Only the chatter of passersby could be heard, their feet tapping on the snow-dusted cobblestones.

Then a hysterically laughing Mrs. Lovett burst into the kitchen.

"Mistah T! Why were ye runnin' away? 'S just a hat!" she laughed. Sweeney backed away from her, stopping in the parlor. "Mrs. Lovett, please. The only thing I hate more than—Mrs. Lovett?" He was cut short by a strange look from his accomplice. Her large brown eyes were cast upward, sparkling, her slender, rosy lips curved into a dreamy smile. "What?" Sweeney asked her. Mrs. Lovett, her face still frozen in the peculiar smile, nodded upward. Sweeney glanced up at the top of the doorframe.

Hanging from a bent nail on a red satin ribbon was a sprig of mistletoe.

This was exponentially more horrifying than the Father Christmas hats. Sweeney Todd scowled at his insolently grinning landlady. Then she looked down at him. "Mr. Todd…" she purred. His scowl deepened. "Do I have to kiss you?" he said sullenly. Mrs. Lovett coquettishly cocked her head. "It would make me quite 'appy if ye did, Mistah T." she said, running her hands up his chest, resting them on his strong shoulders. Sweeney Todd sighed. One kiss wasn't going to kill him.

He awkwardly placed his large hands on Mrs. Lovett's thin, pale shoulders, brushing a few stray auburn curls off her neck. Then he moved his hands to her waist, closing his eyes. Mrs. Lovett leaned in, placing her soft lips over his.

Sweeney Todd was surprised by the warm, fuzzy sensation filling his entire body. He found himself enjoying the feeling of Mrs. Lovett's lips on his, or just holding her in his arms. A few seconds later, Mrs. Lovett pulled away, smiling. Sweeney opened his eyes and looked at his landlady for a moment. He felt a smile tugging at his mouth, so he set it free. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Lovett."

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Todd."

She placed the hat on top of his frizzy dark hair and let Sweeney top her mess of curls with her hat. Then Toby, who had been putting away some of the groceries, came in and saw Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett holding each other and smiling. Before he could ask, Mrs. Lovett put the last hat on his head. She pecked his forehead and slipped an arm around his shoulders.

And for once on 186 Fleet Street, there was a sense of peace, happiness, and love.

THE END