"Toby! Where are ya love?" Mrs. Lovett's footsteps echoed in the dank stillness of the bakehouse. "Nothin's gonna harm you, not while I'm around."
"Toby?" Sweeney called. Something cought his foot, and he tripped. He landed, face first, on to something soft, warm, and just the slightest bit bumpy.
"Hey!" it squeaked. "Ger off me!" It was toby. Good. So the boy hadn't gone far. Sweeney studied his face, thinking of how best to finish him. He was, after all, only a child. It would need to be quick, and it would need to be painless.
"You got mail!"
Sweeney jumped, looking down at the source of the voice. A small, box-like object sat in Toby's lap. Coming from it was a long rope connected somehow to the wall. It was said rope that Sweeney had tripped on before. A glowing window sat above the part with buttons, and on it he could make out words.
"Fan fiction dot net," Sweeney read aloud. "Received, seven nine, 1846."
"Mr. Todd?" Mrs. Lovett asked from behind his right shoulder. "What are ya doin'?" She looked at Toby. "And what is that?"
'Dunno Mum," the boy answered. "I think it's a magical box that tells the future. Found it just after you locked me down here." He made a tsk tsk sound not unlike Mrs. Lovett. "Not very nice. Anyway, I found out about your, um, special ingredient, about why Mr. T there is always such a grump, and even where his wife Lucy is."
"Lucy?" Now the boy had his full attention. "My Lucy is alive? Where is she?"
Toby smiled, pleased with himself. "Oh. She's a begger woman now. Guess the poison she took made her a bit batty."
"How did you know?" red sparks danced dangerously behind his black eyes. He looked to Mrs. Lovett. "Did you know about this? Did you keep her from me?"
"Oh, Mr. T!" she began earnestly. "I was only thinkin' 'o you!"
"Lucy will be coming into the shop," Toby paused. "Three, two, … NOW!"
Shuffling feet could be heard on the floor above, and Mr. Todd dashed for the stairs. "Beadle? Beadle? No good hidin' I saw you. Are you in there still…"
A tall man kissed her ruffly, nearly knocking her off balance. Lucy frowned in annoyance, pushing at him with her little hands. "Hey! Yer not the beadle! He went and got lost in here somewhere."
"It's me," the man's voice broke with emotion. "It's Benjamin. Lucy, I've come home again."
"That's nice dear." She laughed airily. 'Welcome home then." She turned, prancing lightly out the door. "Ben ben, Benjamin," she sang to herself. Hmmmm. Now why did that name sound so familiar. No matter. She was looking for something.
"Let her go, love," Mrs. Lovett said gently. "Sit down here and lemme fix ya a nice cuppa tea."
"You lied to me." He advanced on her, a look of predatory blood lust in his eyes.
"Give it a rest, old man!" Toby sent him sprawling with a well aimed kick to the knees. "I know you wanna put Mum in the oven for not tellin' ya Lucy's alive, but I'm hungry. I'd like something without any hairs or toenails in it please."
Sweeney turned to the boy, flicking out his raiser. "You know too much. It's time for you to die."
Toby stopped the oncoming blade of death with a simple flick to the man's wrist. Surprised, Sweeney dropped his friend, watching in annoyance as the boy picked it up. He cradled it, looking at Sweeney's neck for a disturbingly long moment before flicking the blade closed. "The magic box says I'm sposed to kill you," he said tiredly. "Right after ya kill Lucy for getting in the way of Turpin, then the old pervert 'imself, nearly kill that girl of yours Johanna who's dressed like a sailor, and then put Mum in the oven for not tellin' you." He sighed, seating himself on a bench and rubbing his temples. "Well I've decided not to play. This game sucks and nobody wins."
"Sucks?" Mrs. Lovett looked at the boy, a frown of concern creasing her lovely face. What did suction have to do with the grim turn their lives had almost taken? Toby turned, walking back down the stairs.
"Where do you think you're going?" Mr. Todd asked.
"Bakehouse," Toby answered, slamming the door behind him.
"I'll deal with you later," he hissed at Mrs. Lovett. "For now, the boy has to die." He began making his way down the bakehouse steps when the door burst open.
"Mr. Todd!" Antony sang out.
He sighed. What was Antony doing here? Then he remembered. Johanna! The boy had promised to bring Johanna here while he went out to rent a coach.
"Welcome, my friend," Sweeney called, trying without success to seem casual. He stood before them, taking in the figure standing just behind Antony. "Johanna?" Toby had said that she was disguised as a sailor. If not for the boy's warning, he would have easily mistaken her for a cabin boy or something of the sort.
"Yes sir," the girl replied. Her voice was soft and young like her mother's had been at that age. "Antony told me all about you. Thank you for permitting me to wait here."
"It is my pleasure," Sweeney told her. "You are always welcome here."
He stared, taking in the curve of her pale cheak and the way the light played on her hair. Johanna shifted uncomfortably. She could feel his eyes on her, and a slow, steady rage was building in the pit of her stomach. She had, at first glance, been undyingly greatful, but the more she watched Mr. Todd watching her, the more contempt she felt for the man. What was it with creepy old men appraising her anyway? First, Turpin did it, and now this fellow couldn't seem to get enough of her. She walked to him, taking his head in both of her dainty hands. Something in his gaze flashed, and he covered her hands with his. She smiled sweetly, bringing her knee up and slamming his head into it.
"WHAT WAS THAT FOR!' Antony and Mrs. Lovett cried in unison.
"He gandered," a voice came from the doorway. "I saw it. He gandered at her." Judge Turpin stood smiling smugly at them. He chuckled, watching an unconscious Mr. Todd slip bonelessly to the floor. "But it seems," he went on "that Mr. Todd is not up for my company. He did, however point me right to you my dear." He began walking purposefully toward Johanna. "come peacefully, and we can forget this whole ghastly business ever happened."
'Not on your life!" Something hit him hard, rapping thin arms around his neck. He craned his head to see a young boy clinging there. "Mr. Todd is a creep, but he worked really hard to getcha here, so now you have to wait!"
"I think not," the Judge said, losing his patience with this ragtag band of simpletons.
"Ragtag band of simpletons?" the boy asked. "is that the best you can do? Listen stupid. You can try to leave, but everyone is in my fanfic now, so no one leaves until I say so. Consider yerselves warned." He waggled his tongue at them before turning and making his way down the stairs.
"Fan what?" Antony asked.
"Toby found a magic box," Mrs. Lovett explained. "It tells the future." She watched terpin attempting to leave the shop. An invisible force sent him flying back if he so much as touched the door knob. "And perhaps it also lets 'im write the future."
Antony nodded grimly. "We have to stop him. Such power is dangerous in any hands, but in the hands of a child, it could be much much worse."
"Antony?" Johanna began timidly. "We know nothing of the box. Before we take it from him, it might be best to watch and see how he is able to control it."
"A wonderful idea, my love." He kissed her chastely on the lips, and the three made their way down the steps of the bakehouse, turpin following behind.