A/N: WARNING THIS IS NOT A SWEET STORY! IT DOES INVOLVE SELF HARM/SUICIDE SO PLEASE IF THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU ARE OKAY WITH OR ARE SENSATIVE TO DO NOT READ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Rubies.

Drip, drip, drip..

The sound filled the room, dominating the silence as the glistening red hit the tiled floor rhythmically.

Drip, drip...drip…

The dripping that had been a silence shattering metronome for nearly 20 minutes began to give way to darkness and the slowly quieting sound of a heart beat.

It was well past lunch time and the daily interruption of Nellie bringing up trays of food never occurred making Sweeney separate himself from his normal brooding pattern to look through the door window at the courtyard below expecting to find it full of the rotten filth of London….but it was not, it was as barren and empty as the day he'd returned to Fleet Street. Brows knitting together in thought he moved to the vanity holding his box of razors and opened the lid to take out the next one to be polished when he realized two of the silver razors were gone, if one was in his hand then where was the other?!

A memory of when he'd back Nellie into the vanity the day before after listening to her stupid, useless chatter flitted through his mind, she must have grabbed on of the razors while his back was turned after threatening her. With a low, dangerous growl he shut the box and stormed down to the pie shop in search of the auburn haired baker. When he stepped into the shop it was empty, the only sound was the eerily joyful jingle of the bell over the door as he closed it behind him.

Moving through the shop to the parlor like a predator on the hunt he kept his hand tight around his razor and his guard on high alert. As he entered the parlor it was also empty, not a sign of the baker anywhere. A slight panic began to bubble in his chest, it wasn't as though he cared a scrap for Nellie but if something happened to her who would help him with hiding the evidence of his killings, at least that's what he told himself. Standing in the center of the parlor he looked around now seeing a few things out of place, the papers on the small side table were disturbed, their corners crumpled as though someone had grabbed them shaking, the ink pot and pen were both on the floor creating a deep black stain on the carpet.

He was so absorbed in examining the newly found clues that when the resounding metallic clunk of metal hitting tile sounded it made him jump and spin around eyes darting around the room trying to locate the sound. Taking a breath his mind began to work again, the only rooms to have tile were the kitchen and the bathroom of the downstairs flat, he already knew Nellie wasn't in the kitchen, she would have come out when she'd heard him come down the stairs, so that left one other place, the bathroom.

He made his way down the hall each step seeming to take him farther rather than closer as a pit opened in his stomach and consumed it. Finally he reached the door and took hold of the handle easing it open making it creek on it's hinges. The first thing to hit him was the all too familiar copper smell of blood, it overwhelmed his nose and coated his tongue making his heart lurch into a panicked race. He let the door fall open as he stepped over the threshold and found Nellie laying in the tub filled with red dyed water, one arm on the side lip of the tub, hand slack in a position as though it had been holding something, and a dull eerie sound filled the room.

Drip….drip….drip….

Eyes following the river of crimson that had once been flowing from her wrist, down her hand to where it now dripped sluggishly from her fingertips to the tiled floor where his missing razor lay in a pool of blood. He felt numb all over, his mind couldn't process the glassed over teary look in her now lifeless brown eyes as they stared unseeing at the ceiling, trails of already fallen and dried tears present on her cheeks. His eyes caught a bit of white on the floor just out of the blood's reach making him swallow hard and reach down to lift it. Written shakily on the half crumpled paper were two words that spoke more than a whole novel ever could.

'I'm sorry'

Drip…..drip…..dri-

The soul sound of her precious red rubies hitting the floor stopped as the last ruby tumbled from her cold finger tips hitting the floor with a sound loud enough to drown out thunder but softer than a sigh…

Drip.