Disclaimer: I own nothing but wishes when it comes to Sweeney Todd.

Wishful Thinking

Mrs. Lovett sticks some candles in a pie and calls it a party.

"Toby," she calls to the boy.

He's brushing off the tables from another busy night and almost doesn't hear her. He must be tired, because he usually comes running at her every call.

"Worry about that tomorrow, love," Mrs. Lovett says. "We've 'ad a long enough night; no need to worry with what the wind will spoil by sunrise."

Toby looks confused, relieved, then tired as he scurries towards Mrs. Lovett who holds open the shop's door.

"We'll 'ave a little celebration, you and I," she says, and with a swish of her skirt she snatches a bottle of gin from the pantry.

"What are we celebrating?" He sits in the window booth and flicks crumbs at the passing shadows of Fleet Street.

Mrs. Lovett pours two tumblers of gin. With a wry smile she says, "Our livelihood, no doubt."

Toby gives a small gasp as Mrs. Lovett next reveals the candle-adorned pastry.

"Is it your birthday, Mum?" Toby asks excitedly.

Mrs. Lovett laughs, sets the pie in front of the lad, slides into the seat across from him.

"No, 'course not, dearie. I don't 'ave birthdays," she winks, Toby smiles, "Just thought I could use the extra wish what's all."

"I'd believe that," Toby says quickly.

Mrs. Lovett's brow furrows and she wonders suddenly if Toby realizes she's feeling sorry for herself.

"I mean about you not 'aving birthdays."

Mrs. Lovett relaxes then, resting her chin upon the propped up palm of her hand. Toby's eyes twinkle with fondness. Nellie Lovett almost thinks they look like Ben Barker's were- chocolate and coffee.

"It's only that you look like you never age."

"Toby, you're worse than some of my customers, you are!" Mrs. Lovett laughs, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Sometimes I think you think you're older than you are, Mum," Toby mumbles, hiding his blush by staring into his glass of gin.

"Oh, that's enough from you now," she scolds. But somehow, her heart isn't in her words.

Mrs. Lovett pulls a match from her pocket, strikes the bottom of the table, and lights the little candle. The color of the flame dances on Toby's face. Mrs. Lovett yawns, and with a smile she says, "You make your wish first. I can always light the candle again."

As Toby thinks of a wish, Mrs. Lovett brushes flour from her hair.

Suddenly, the boy blows out the light, but Mrs. Lovett can see his grin even through the darkness.

"Your turn!"

Mrs. Lovett blows out the candle almost the second match touches wick. She wishes a lot, so she barely has to consider for which wish to hope. Besides, Nellie Lovett makes the same wish every time she wishes.

Toby sips his gin like it is the comfort of milk.

"Can I 'ave some of the pie?"

"That's why I make 'em."

Toby begins to take a bite before offering the first bite to Mrs. Lovett.

"You eat it, Toby. A wish is enough for me."

Mrs. Lovett laughs at the gusto with which Toby eats the pie she doesn't even want to touch. "Don't you ever tire of my pies?"

Toby wipes some crumps from his lips and shakes his head.

Mrs. Lovett smiles, but something about Toby's insatiable love for the taste of human flesh bothers the old baker. She swallows a mouthful of gin, pushes the worry from her mind just for tonight.

"Mum?" Toby asks, shuffling a bit of crust around the almost empty pie tin.

Mrs. Lovett pulls her eyes from the ceiling and the pattern of her tenant's heavy pacing.

She gives Toby a mischievous smile. "Couldn't tell you now, could I? It wouldn't come true."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Course I do. I've got to 'ave something to believe in, don't I?"

Mrs. Lovett pays no attention to Toby's frown as he wonders about this. Instead, her eyes wander back to the ceiling and she thinks of wishes.