A/N: I've never seen the whole Sweeney Todd movie so don't kill me if I get this all wrong, but keep in mind it's just a fanfic. Note the prolog is written in narrative form so it might suck. Scratch that this whole thing might suck, but if it does, oh well.

Disclaimer: I didn't do it.

Sherlock Holmes

And the

Barber on Fleet Street

Prolog

Poor Mr. Tailor

London 1846 was a year no one would forget, for this was the year where two great minds met. Normally when this happens it's a minor thing, they either get along quite well or not at all. But these two minds where so alike and yet so different that London would never be the same again. It started in November the 6th, when Mrs. Tailor sent her husband off to get a much needed hair cut.

He walked to the barber shop oblivious to what was to happen. After all it was just a hair cut nothing more could be expected of this. He walked down Fleet Street and into the barber shop. The barber, Mr. Todd, turned and smiled. Now any one who looked closely could tell there was something off about that smile, but Mr. Tailor just wanted a hair cut to get his wife to stop nagging him about it. And unfortunately Mr. Tailor had made it just in time before the shop closed, to be the last unlucky costumer

Mr. Todd said, "Take a seat sir." So Mr. Tailor did. Now there was a point where Mr. Tailor thought something wasn't quiet right. Perhaps it was the faint smell of rotting flesh in the room, or the small crimson stain on Mr. Todd's shirt. But poor Mr. Tailor didn't see these things, for he was not an observant man. No, Mr. Tailor thought nothing of these things until Sweeney Todd razor cut a little too deep. Mr. Tailor only had a few seconds to know something was wrong . Besides the sudden slash of pain in his throat the only other thing could comprehend was that Mr. Todd pulled the lever on that chair, and it flew back just a little too far.

The fall of the basement was brief for him, but he did not suffer long. The fall broke his neck and immediately he died. The barber smiled running his hand threw his wild black hair.

"I have a feeling Mr. Tailor will make a delicious meat pie." He said, with that he closed his shop and went to bed with no regrets.

Later that evening, Mrs. Tailor, was still awake. She had not thought her husband would be so late. She stood by the stove brewing some tea, thinking about where her husband could be.

"Probably with another woman." She said bitterly to herself.

"Or gambling all our money," she said.

Mrs. Tailor went to sleep with bitter thoughts in her head, not a moment did she think her husband could be dead. A day passed and she began to wonder if he was coming back at all. Finally she called the inspector, the inspector and his men were stumped almost immediately. With no body, and Mr. Todd unsuspected the inspector had gotten nowhere. Another day past and so far the inspector and his men had question everyone including Mr. Todd.

Not once did he suspect him, in fact he rather liked the fellow. Chatting as if they were old friends, Mr. Todd suggested they stop by Mrs. Lovett's shop for her famous meat pie. The inspector took that suggestion and stopped by the shop, and had the best meat pie he had ever had. So the inspector went home back to his wife and family, and promised them a pie from Mrs. Lovett's shop.

Mrs. Tailor was angry to say the lest. She complained how the inspectors ate pie instead of trying to find her lost husband to her friends. When one of her friends suggested that she should try a detective, Mrs. Tailor thought it was worth a try. So she got on a carriage and rode to Baker Street, and walk up the steps to the address of 221B.

A/N: So… yeah I was bored. And this took me twenty minute to do.