Author's Note: Hello, and Happy Halloween everyone! In the spirit of Halloween, I've decided to write you guys a Sweeney Todd two-shot! It's my first story in this category, so please be nice. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd. Just my OCs and my DVD copy.
All Hallow's Eve, Part One
~Three Days before Halloween~
Drizzle and dark storm clouds. Not much else was expected for London weather. Many of the citizens hoped that they would have fair weather on Halloween, but they weren't getting their hopes up too high. For them, this was normal.
But not for two girls from Florida, who were used to 100 degree weather and sunshine.
Both were visiting Europe for the year before they went off to college. Where, they weren't sure, but they knew they didn't want to attend college back home. No one could really blame them. But they did decide on where they wanted to live for the time being, and that place happened to be a two story building off of Fleet Street.
The girls moved into the building not but four days ago, settling quickly, considering they didn't bring a lot with them. When they first saw the building, it had a dark, ominous feeling about it. The first floor was a small shop, the paint on the building yellowed down and peeling. It read Mrs. Lovett's. At first, they weren't too sure about it, but it was the only housing available…and affordable.
Now they were settled in, transforming the small, run-down pie shop into a portrait studio and art gallery. And with Halloween right around the corner, they had become busy.
They had just finished taking Halloween portraits for a family of four when one of the girls, a Stacy Johnson, broke the silence that had ensued when the family left.
"You know, Liz," she said to her friend, who was currently setting up a blank canvas to paint a portrait for an expected customer. "Maybe we should just do this for the rest of our lives. No college, just pure and simply art from our own creation."
Elizabeth Thompson looked towards the freckle-faced red-head. Her soft blue eyes matched her smiling expression. "I'd like that. It'd be nice to stay here."
"That's right!" Stacy exclaimed. "You're from here aren't you?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah. Not far from here actually."
"Well, I'll be. Is it just like what you remembered?"
"Almost. When I was younger it seemed brighter."
Stacy smiled. "Everything does when we're kids. Is your house close by?"
"Yeah, I actually passed by it on the way to St. Dunstan's Market. It felt strange walking around here again. It's like I've been here my entire life."
"Wow. Uncanny."
Elizabeth nodded with wide eyes. "Definitely."
The two girls giggled at that. As soon as they caught their breath, they continued with their work—Stacy put up her photography equipment while Elizabeth gathered her different paints and brushes, along with the original picture of one of their customers, and began to paint.
As Stacy was cleaning up, she walked behind the center counter in the shop and opened one of the draws to put the extra flashes up. When she did, she found an antique ring of keys.
"Hey, what do you suppose this goes to?" she asked Elizabeth.
The blonde looked away from her painting to see her friend holding up the keys. "I'm not sure," she said. She thought about it for a moment, and then added, "I believe the owner said one of them was to the shop upstairs."
Stacy pointed a finger toward the ceiling. "There's a shop up there?"
"Yeah. Mr. Wellington said that it was a barber shop at one point in time, but no one goes up there anymore."
Smiling, the red-head shook the keys and wiggled her eyebrows. "Wanna find out?"
"Really?" Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow.
"Why not? We own the place now. Might as well get to know the place."
Elizabeth looked up towards the ceiling and then back towards Stacy. "I don't know."
"Oh, come on, scaredy cat!" Stacy exclaimed, grabbing a hold of the blonde's hand and dragging her out of the side door.
"I'm not scared," she muttered as they began to climb the stairs.
Stacy giggled and let go of Elizabeth's hand when they got to the door of the barber shop. She selected the first of the keys and slid it into the lock. It didn't work. She tried another key, and still, it did not work. She did this four more times until a small, rusty key was able to unlock the door.
"Got it!" she exclaimed in victory. She opened the door and walked in.
Elizabeth slowly walked in after her and then shut the door. As she did, a small bell rang. This caused the girls to jump.
"God," Stacy said. "That nearly caused me a heart attack."
"Same here," Elizabeth said. "I didn't see that."
"Me neither."
The girls looked around the small room. There wasn't much there except for a broken mirror in the far left corner of the room, a small bed next to it, a desk/vanity on the far right wall, and an oversized chest next to the door to the shop. It was big enough to fit someone in it. And in the center of the room, a few feet from the large window on the slanted center wall, was a lone arm chair.
"Nothing much in here," Stacy commented.
"Not really," Elizabeth agreed. She spotted the desk and walked straight for it, while Stacy headed for another door on the other side of the bed.
Elizabeth browsed the contents of the desk. It was extremely dusty, no different from any of the other furniture in the room, but the items on it were extremely tidy. Nothing was out of place.
Whoever used to live up here was very organized, she thought. For the most part.
Elizabeth continued to browse. She saw an old stationary set, some picture frames (but didn't bother to look at them, mind you), and something that caught her eye. On the edge of the desk was a small box, the lid open. Inside the box were seven slots for seven silver, dusty straight razors. All present, except one.
The blonde carefully picked one up from the box, dusting it off as she did. As the dust was wiped away from the small object, she noticed that even in the dim light that it glistened and shined. She carefully pulled it open and was surprised to find that even the blade was in good condition. It was as if time hadn't touched it at all.
The owner must have taken really good care of these before he left them here, she thought.
Elizabeth continued to examine the razor, admiring the intricate design on the handle when she felt the air grow cold, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. And then that's when she heard it, the faint whisper of a masculine voice.
Lucy.
Elizabeth turned around quickly to see who was behind her, but there was nothing. Nothing and no one at all. The only other person there was Stacy, but she was in the other room.
Lucy.
She heard it again. It sent chills down her spine, but she wasn't sure if it was out of fear or if it was because, for some odd reason, it sounded all too familiar to her and it sent down chills of pleasure. The thought of that, however, did scare her.
Elizabeth looked back toward the desk just as Stacy walked out of the other room. Her friend walked up to her with a look of disappointment.
The cold feeling and the voice disappeared in a matter of seconds.
"Nothing in there, either," the red-head said. "It was just a washroom. What did ya find?"
"Just some old razors," Elizabeth said shrugging. "They're in perfect condition."
"That's neat!" Stacy exclaimed as she spotted the box of razors and picked one up. "What era do you suppose it's from?"
"I'd say Victorian."
"Maybe." Stacy put down the razor and grabbed one of the picture frames. She dusted it off so that she could make out the picture. What she saw caused her to nearly drop the frame.
"Liz?"
"Yeah?"
"Look at this." She handed the frame to Elizabeth, who took it from her carefully. For some reason, when she put pressure on one of her fingers, it stung.
Elizabeth ignored the feeling and looked at the photograph. She, too, nearly dropped the frame. In the picture, there was a woman sitting in a chair with an infant in her lap. Elizabeth looked up and gazed into the mirror and then back at the frame. The woman looked identical to her.
"She looks just like…" Elizabeth slowly said.
"Creepy huh?" Stacy asked her. She looked at her friend and then caught a glimpse of something she wasn't too fond of. "Liz, you're bleeding."
Elizabeth broke her gaze from the photo and then followed the red-head's line of sight. The stinging she had disregarded had come from the cut that was on her index finger.
"What happened?"
"I guess I must have cut my finger with the razor by accident," Elizabeth said, shocked at seeing the blood flowing from her dainty finger.
"Here, let's go get it cleaned up."
Elizabeth gently put the frame back on the desk, as well as the bloodied razor. Stacy quickly led her friend out of the door and down the stairs back to the studio.
Neither of them noticed a pair of dark eyes belonging to a tall form of a lean and pale man watching them out of the door window.
xxx
~The Day before Halloween~
"Here's your change, Mr. Turpin," Stacy said from behind the counter. "And here is your painting as well."
Turpin put his change in his coat pocket and then took a hold of his new painting. "Thank you very much, Miss Johnson."
"No problem at all!"
Turpin held the painting away from him a little so as to get a better look. "Do you still have the original?"
"Yes.," Stacy said, giggling. She pulled out the original picture she took of him and showed it to him. "Are you wanting to make comparisons again?"
"It is remarkable that my likeness has been copied with such refined detail," the man said, looking back and forth between the two identical portraits. "May I inquire as to who the artist is?"
"Oh, my roommate painted that. Her name's Elizabeth Thompson, sir."
"And where is she? I would like to thank her properly."
"She in the shop upstairs. She set up it up as a small studio to give herself some more breathing room."
Turpin's mouth twitched at that, but Stacy didn't notice. "I see. Do you mind if I—?"
"Oh, no. Not at all!" Stacy said. "Liz wouldn't mind hearing your compliments on her art. She may deny that she has any talent, but she does have it. Just make sure you knock on the door first."
Turpin gave her a warm smile and nodded to her. "Thank you, again, Miss Johnson. Have a good day."
"You too. Feel free to use the side door."
The older man walked out of the door and headed up the stairs to the small studio. When he got up there, he immediately knocked on the door.
"Come in!" a voice said from behind the door.
Turpin walked in, and then closed it, sounding the small bell that alerted the occupant of her visitor. His eyes widened when she turned away from her work.
It can't be, he thought.
"Can I help you, sir?" Elizabeth asked him.
Turpin shook his head to clear it, and then smiled. "Are you Elizabeth Thompson?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Miss Thompson, I wanted to thank you for the portrait. I greatly appreciate it. And to compliment you on your exquisite work."
Elizabeth blushed a little. "Oh, well…you're very welcome. Really, it was nothing."
"Nothing? I'd daresay that it looks as though angels had painted it themselves. Absolute perfection."
"T-thank you." Elizabeth looked down at the ground and then turned to face her work. She felt uneasy and his presence there made it unnerving. She couldn't help but feel as though she had felt that way before.
Turpin's brow quirked up a bit. Without really thinking about it, he grabbed a few pounds out of his pocket and then put his painting down. He walked up to her and took a hold of her hand, and then placed the money in her hand. Elizabeth looked up at the man with wide eyes.
"Sir," she began. "You don't have to—"
"Trust me," the man said. "I do. I was once a judge, determining the fates of others. I have thought on my sins, and wish to be in God's good graces once more." With that, Judge Turpin quickly kissed her hand and then bolted for the door. He opened it and headed out the door.
Elizabeth shrugged herself out of the shock of what just happened, and ran for the door. "Sir!" she called out. She reached the door and looked out towards the stairs and towards the busy street. He was gone.
"Huh. That was odd."
She walked back into the studio and shut the door. She placed the money on the desk and then attended to her work.
She never noticed the Judge's abandoned portrait disappear out of thin air. As if it had never been there at all.
xxx
"I'm going to go pick up some stuff at the market," Elizabeth called to Stacy from the small parlor. "Do you need anything?"
"No, I'm fine!"
"Okay, see you in a bit."
Elizabeth walked out onto the streets and tried to hail a cab. When all of her attempts failed, she just started walking towards St. Dunstan's Market.
Once at the market, she went to the many art vendors to buy more paints and other art supplies for the upstairs studio. As she purchased what she needed, her eye caught the glimpse of something shining on the ground a few feet from her. She grabbed her supplies and walked over to pick it up. It was a straight razor.
Elizabeth looked around to see if anyone had noticed it was missing. When she didn't see anyone frantically looking about, she began to ask anyone around her if they had seen the person who did. No one had seen the item being lost.
Not until an oddly familiar voice spoke up and said, "I believe that belongs to me."
Elizabeth turned and came face to face with a lean, pale man with black hair, which had a random white streak, and dark eyes. He was maybe a head taller than Elizabeth herself. She couldn't help but gaze at his handsome features. When she felt that she could actually think, she smiled and handed him the razor. "Here you are, mister…?"
"Todd," he said in a smooth voice. "Sweeney Todd."
Elizabeth giggled at that.
"Do I amuse you?" he asked, confused. His heart fluttered, however, at the sound of her laugh.
"Are you joking?"
"No, I am quite serious."
"Your parents must hate you then."
Sweeney could help but smirk just a bit. "Why do you say that?"
"Who names their child after a serial killer from an urban legend?"
"I suppose, you could say that," Sweeney said in a guarded tone.
Despite his the fact that he looked as if he had been brooding for his entire life, and that he was a total stranger, Elizabeth felt at ease with Mr. Todd.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me to say. I really didn't mean to poke fun at your name."
Sweeney smiled a genuine smile. "It's perfectly alright."
Elizabeth smiled back, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach as she saw his smile. She handed him the razor, which he took. His fingers brushed up against her hand, causing her to shudder.
Why am I acting like this? Elizabeth wondered. I've never met the guy and here I am, getting all worked up over him smiling and touching my hand.
"Thank you," he said.
"No problem. I should probably head home."
"Would you like some help?" Sweeney asked, noticing the bags that she was carrying.
Elizabeth gave him a small smile and nodded. "Yes, please."
Sweeney grabbed a few of the bags from her hands and arms and then followed her down the road towards the studio. They were about halfway there when Elizabeth accidently bumped into someone. Sweeney had gotten a few feet ahead of her before he turned around.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Elizabeth said.
The beggar woman grabbed a hold of the girl's arm and yanked her closer. "Careful who ye keep for company," she muttered.
"I'm sorry?"
"All Hallow's Eve," the beggar woman said. "Things ain't as they seem. Won't be normal 'till you're reunited wif 'im."
"Excuse me?" Elizabeth asked, confused. "Reunited with who?"
"Beware the barber shop. Beware the bake house. She's there. The Devil's wife. She's in the bake house. They can't rest unless you reunite wif 'im. All Hallow's Eve."
"What are you talking about? Reunite with who?"
The beggar woman never answered her question. The older woman walked off, leaving a confused Elizabeth behind to ponder her musings.
"Are you okay, miss?" Sweeney asked.
The girl looked to Sweeney, who gave her a confused and worried look.
"I'm fine. Let's go…follow me."
The two walked on down the alleyway and towards Fleet Street. As they did, Elizabeth couldn't help but think about the older woman's ravings, and as she did, an eerily familiar tune sounded from behind them.
Alms! Alms! For a desperate woman!
A/N: There you go! Part one of my ST two-shot. The next part will hopefully be up sometime soon. Let me know your thoughts please. Reviews make me quite the happy writer, but please, NO FLAMES! I would just laugh at them just like how I laughed at the fact that Pirelli lost the shaving contest in the middle of that high note.
Feel free to join me on Facebook for updates, pictures, and what not. For those of you who don't know, there is a link to it on my profile page. Hope to see you there! ^-^
~Xanthe