Next chapter! I thought this was going to be the second to last, but I think I'm going to make it much longer, somehow. We'll see. :) Thank you to all those who reviewed, and please review again!
I do not own any of the these characters, except for the one brewing in Mrs. Lovett's belly.
Once they had made it far from the courthouse, Sweeney put a now awake Mrs. Lovett back on her feet and whirled around to face Anthony. The sailor skidded to a stop, almost slamming into the barber's chest. Sweeney grabbed Anthony's shirt collar and pulled him up eye level.
"What did you mean to do in there?" he growled fiercely. Anthony thought he was going to strangle him.
"I-I . . . it was all a very well laid out plan, you see. Ah . . . - urk - " Anthony could no longer speak, due to Sweeney's grip.
"You. Nearly. Got. Us. Killed." he said, punctuating each word with a pull of the boy's shirt.
"Stop it!" cried Mrs. Lovett. "You're choking 'im, can't you see?"
Sweeney looked at Anthony, who was turning a slight bluish color. He loosened his grip lightly, but still held most of his collar, enough so that Anthony would still feel threatened.
"Um . . . Toby is under the current assumption that you are . . . well, you see . . . a murderer?" Anthony cringed, fearing the wrath that would soon come from Sweeney.
Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett exchanged glances. "Well, o' course that's jus' preposterous," said Mrs. Lovett, matter-of-factly.
"Of course, of course. That's what I tried to tell him," said Anthony, nervously twisting his sleeves. Sweeney finally let go of his collar, and Anthony let out a big breath of relief. "So why did they say all those things about you, then?"
Sweeney was about to say something, but Mrs. Lovett interrupted him. "It's all a very tragic story, love. Y'see, in short, the Judge loved Sweeney's wife, so 'e shipped 'im off to Australia. You know about that part, I'm sure." Anthony nodded earnestly. "Well, Sweeney came back, and the Judge found out, and needed a reason to kick 'im out again, y'see? So he went and fixed up the story that 'e's a murderer and whatnot."
"I see . . ." said Anthony, looking very sagacious. "It all makes sense. But why, then, were you thrown into the mix?"
"Er . . ." said Mrs. Lovett. She looked at Sweeney, who didn't say anything, and then looked ahead in front of her, bringing her hand to her face as if to shield her eyes. "Goodness! Is that Toby I see?" Both Anthony and Sweeney squinted in that direction, but saw nothing. Nonetheless, Mrs. Lovett ran forward, albeit quite wobbly thanks to the extra weight she was carrying.
At last, they made it to Mrs. Lovett's shop. Toby and Johanna had been sitting by the window, and were now out and standing very awkwardly in front of the door.
"What's he still doing here?" spat Toby at Sweeney.
"Things didn't exactly go according to plan," whispered Anthony in Toby's ear. Neither Mrs. Lovett nor Sweeney heard him.
"Yeah, obviously not." He turned to Mrs. Lovett, who smiled at him.
"Toby, darling," she cooed, and he could not help but fall for her motherly charm. He smiled back at her, but only for a moment. Then his expression turned black.
"E's dangerous, mum," he said, nodding at Sweeney. "'E's killed people, and I can prove it!"
"Can you, now?" asked Sweeney, calling the boy's bluff. Toby, however, did not back down.
"Yeah, I can. And there's nothin' stoppin' me from goin' back to the Judge and tellin' 'im where you are!"
"Go ahead," snapped Sweeney. "We're leaving." He grabbed Mrs. Lovett's arm and started pulling her away. Mrs. Lovett stared wide-eyed at Toby.
"We can't jus' leave!" she cried.
"Yes, we can. It's only a matter of time before all of London is after us. You stalled them for a bit, but it's not going to last forever." He started pulling her towards the basement of the shop. "We'll have to go by sewer."
"No!" yelled Mrs. Lovett, pushing Sweeney off of her. He stepped back, surprised. "I can't leave Toby." She looked softly at the boy, whose heart practically broke at the sight of such love and care. Finally, Toby realized that the one person who cared about him was going to be taken away. He seemed as if he wanted to cry out, to shout and pummel Sweeney, but found himself speechless.
"Mum . . ." he murmured, reaching one small hand out to her.
"Oh, Toby," sniffled Mrs. Lovett. She turned and faced Sweeney and hissed in his ear, "You're not jus' going to leave your daughter here, are yeh'?"
Sweeney stopped dead in his tracks. He could not believe how completely obtuse he had been. Johanna was there, right in front of him. Johanna. The name practically danced in his mind. His gaze fell on her, with her white blonde hair and blue eyes. She looked like a younger version of Lucy. Sweeney felt an uncomfortable tug of his heart, as if it were giving a warning that it was about to break. His eyes softened as he took in her form, which was trembling with fright. Seeing this, Sweeney backed away, and averted his eyes. This girl was afraid of him, actually afraid of him. He whispered back to Mrs. Lovett, "Let's go."
She looked at him, confusion coloring her features. "What d'you mean, 'let's go'?"
"I mean," he grunted, grabbing her wrist and tugging her once roughly, "let's go!" He turned to Toby, Anthony, and Johanna, and spoke low and quick. "Don't follow us. Don't tell anyone you've seen us. Or you'll wish you were never born." He grabbed unconsciously at his side, intending to grab his razor to add to the threat, but only grabbed at empty air. "Shit," he muttered. His razors were still upstairs. Did he have time to go and get them? The sun was still up, he couldn't chance being out in broad daylight for too long. But he couldn't chance being without his razors, either. Finally, he realized that he would in fact be lost without his razors, which have always been there in his time of need, and decided to dash quickly up the stairs and retrieve them.
"I'll be right back," he muttered to Mrs. Lovett, then turned the corner and hurried up the stairs into his barber shop, without a second glance back to the children who seemed to be shaking in their shoes. He wrenched open the door and walked swiftly to where he normally kept his box of razors. There was just one problem – it were not there. Panicking, he whirled around, uprooting everything he had to find the box he held so dear. Where the bloody hell was it?
"Looking for something, Mr. Todd? Ah, I mean, Mr. Barker?"
Sweeney whipped around, finding himself face to face with the rat-like Beadle Bamford, who was standing in the doorway. He curled his lip up in disgust. "You," he snarled. Of course. He should have realized his absence in the courtroom, should have realized he was up to something even more mischievous.
"Yes, me," answered the Beadle. He tauntingly held up the box Sweeney had been searching for, waving it from side to side. He raised his eyebrows and smiled wickedly. Sweeney lunged, grabbing Beadle Bamford by the neck. The Beadle's eyes grew round as quarters as he gurgled and gasped for breath. The precious box fell from his hands and onto the wooden floor, opening up and causing all the razors to clatter about. Both Sweeney's and Beadle Bamford's eyes immediately darted to the floor, then back at each other. Quick as lightning, Sweeney released the roundish man and stooped the floor to grab one of the razors, then immediately stabbed the Beadle in the leg. He shrieked in pain and fell to the ground, clutching his leg. Sweeney stabbed him continually on the same leg before moving to his rotund belly, angrily and wildly ripping the man apart. He slashed and stabbed until he was practically drenched in the Beadle's blood, then lay back on his hands, breathing heavily. Smiling in satisfaction at the unrecognizable bloody mess in front of him, he got up, wiped some blood off his face, and walked calmly down the stairs, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Once he reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the shop's corner, he was met with the shocked faces of Mrs. Lovett, Toby, Anthony, and Johanna. He knew he must have been a sight, covered in blood and somewhat wild in the eyes, but he did not break his stride as he walked straight over to Mrs. Lovett and grabbed her arm.
"What 'appened up there?" she cried weakly. What 'appened to you?!"
"Let us just say that we won't be bothered by Beadle Bamford anymore," he said coolly. "Now, will you stop being unreasonable and come with me before the whole city of London comes to hang us?"
Mrs. Lovett puckered her lips, then finally nodded. Toby looked outraged. "You're goin' to go with 'im? Look at 'im! 'E jus' killed a person, and you're going to go with him?" he shouted.
"I'm sorry, love," said Mrs. Lovett. "We can't stay 'ere anymore." She looked at Sweeney and then back at Toby. "I'll come back, I promise."
Then, without another second's delay, Sweeney tugged Mrs. Lovett's arm and they both ran into the basement of the bake house, heading for the sewers. He wasn't sure, but Sweeney was pretty sure he heard the small boy whisper "Promises, promises" doubtfully behind him.