Thanks for all the helpful messages! But I still need ideas, I'm not superwoman, I can't write a story without a little bit of help, thanks. Soooooo, sooooo, very sorry! I didn't mean to take so long to update… I will update more often promise! Thank you for all the reviews they are most welcome!

Disclaimer: Sweeney Todd I do not own, Sweeney Todd I love the most. (in the singsong words of Willy Wonka)

Dear Diary:

Today has been stressful, Mr. T was not being himself; he was being some weird form of the two people, Benjamin and Sweeney. It's like he can't decide who he should or should not be; I feel bad for him.

I looked away from my old journal and looked up to the source of the crash. Toby must have tried to get something from the top shelf. I turned back to my journal to finish the entry.

Toby must have grabbed something from the top shelf so I have to go.

Ms. Lovett.

I was appalled when I went into the kitchen; it wasn't Toby, but Mr. T who had been the cause of the crash. He was, for whatever reason, trying to cook something and the pan slipped.

"Mr. T?" I wasn't quite sure which one he was just yet.

"Ms. Lovett, I'm terribly sorry for the crash, please forgive me; I promise to buy a new pan." He fumbled about his words.

It was Benjamin again, I really had a hard time getting used to his apologizing.

"It's alright love." I internally sighed; I would never let him know about my frustration.

Sweeney's POV:

After Ms. Lovett left the kitchen I sighed with relief; I was getting better at pretending to be Benjamin. I was worried that she would see through me though. She seemed more tired than usual; maybe it was stress.

The pan was a total accident; I woke up this morning with this odd feeling, like I felt the need to help someone. It was weird and foreign to me; but that's why I was cooking. Ms. Lovett needed a day to rest; I had already turned around the shop sign to "closed" but if that bloody thing flipped to "open" I will glue it to the "closed" side.

I was making eggs, but now they're all over the floor. I grabbed the broom and swept it up and put it into the trash. It was chilly outside; I didn't notice that this morning.

My perfect breakfast plan wasn't going all that well; I had planned on making eggs and biscuits, then going back to my room, making it look like Toby had done it. Now, not only did I tip her off that I was cooking, I also made a huge mess. Plus, as an added bonus, I realized that I can't cook; I'm terrible, the eggs that made it to the floor were my fifth set of unsuccessful attempts at cooking.

I was going to try one last time, if it didn't work, I'll just go out and buy something.

I had gotten better at cracking eggs, mostly because I've, now, done it so many times. Not a single piece of shell made it in; that made me feel a bit better. I was also getting used to the smell; at first, it smelled horrible. Guess I'm just not all that used to so much food.

I had managed to finish the eggs without them burning, exploding (which did happen once), dropping to the floor, or dissolving. Who would have thought that if you left eggs in the oven long enough they actually dissolve?

Now I need to make biscuits…

How the hell do you make biscuits!

I had absolutely no idea and I couldn't ask Ms. Lovett, she already knew way too much. I guess I am just going to have to use the "trial and error" method; that works right?

My first attempt ended up exploding in the oven which resulted in a slew of curse words and ten minutes of cleaning; my conclusion, too much of that yeast stuff. My second didn't rise enough and looked as sad as Ms. Lovett; didn't use enough yeast. My third attempt burned because I had walked away for a little while and forgotten about them. And my fourth, yet last attempt turned out to be the best; which wasn't saying much.

I put the two together hoping Ms. Lovett would see the plate and accept it; I, on the other hand, had to go out and replace the pan and all the flour and yeast I used.

So, for the first time in two months, I left the house.

Ms. Lovett's POV:

I took my morning bath, dressed myself, even put on a bit of makeup, and walked into the kitchen, prepared for the new day.

The kitchen smelt, different. Part of it was a terrible smell of burnt bread and eggs, which was odd because I almost never go out to buy eggs. Another part though, smelt delicious; I looked over to the table, on it was a plate of food that looked terrible, but smelt great. There was a note next to it.

"Ms. Lovett, I'm out buying that new pan for you; sorry about that. I hope you enjoy (or at least stomach) the horrid mess I left you. Also, I don't want you running your shop today, under no circumstance what-so-ever. And I mean that in the fullest; we both do. –Sweeney Todd

I put my hand over my heart; even though it was a little weird looking (the food), it was still made with me in mind. It was completely unusual for Mr. T, the real Mr. T, to want to help me; I happily ate the food, glad that it tasted much better than it looked and smiled at the thought that, to a degree, I was loved.

I did as he asked and kept my shop closed all day; I did so hoping that he would come and talk to me and open up just a little. That was probably never going to happen, but maybe, at least, he would explain why he did that for me.

But, that never happened; at first I thought that Mr. T was avoiding me, maybe out of embarrassment that he'd shown off his feelings. As the day went on though, and after I checked up on his room with lunch, I began to realize that he had been out on the town all day long. This was odd for him, we both knew the risk of him leaving for too long; if they switched then who knows what could happen.

It was nearing dark and I came to the simple, yet terrifying conclusion.

Something was very, very wrong.