The Caged Songbird

When she closes her eyes, she's still in that barber chair. In her ridiculous disguise as a boy and how the mysterious woman's scream saved her life. She didn't know the baker downstairs that Anthony briefly mentioned but seeing how a man drenched in blood with anger in his eyes could fly out of the room away from his prey as quick as he did, that baker must have meant a great deal to him.

Did they possess some hidden love? Was she, his mistress? Mr. Turpin had several mistresses, some from all over the world. It was normal for a successful man perhaps. Would Anthony have his own someday?

"Johanna?" his voice sounded far away as she was too busy being wrapped up in her own thoughts, staring out the window of their room in a London inn. "Johanna!" the voice rang more urgent and shriller, almost a nuisance.

Reluctantly, Johanna turned away from her gaze out the window. "Did you hear me?" Anthony asked, his tone sweet as it is whenever he addresses her, like speaking to a scared lost child, or as if she'd break apart.

"No." her feathery voice honestly spoke.

Anthony frowned, and she sensed she must have offended him in some way. "I was saying, when we're in Paris, we should—" the rest of his speech was droned to a buzzing in her ears. Talking giddy about Paris and their wedding and sailing was all he could ramble.

It's only been a day since Anthony retrieved her from Fogg's asylum. A day since she met her father and a day since she lost him again.

"We'll set sail tomorrow, at dawn." Anthony spoke and this time Johanna heard him loud and clear.

"In the morning?" she confirmed.

"Yes," he said all smiles. "We have to get out of this city, so the ghosts will go away, and we'll be free."

Johanna smiled faintly in return before looking out the window at the sky once more. The ghosts aren't ever going away. If you can't see that, you're a fool, she wanted to tell him, but kept her mouth closed.

Anthony always rambled about her father Sweeney Todd, no, Benjamin Barker. How he trusted the man and felt betrayed. How foolish he was for seeking help in the hands of a monster. After his rambles ended, he'd always say how it was worth it now. And tell Johanna that she was a treasure of his. She never knew how to feel about this. Was she supposed to feel flattered or in love? She didn't even know what love was. Was being someone's prized possession that they managed to obtain, love?

The thought of leaving London next dawn unnerved her for some reason. She couldn't relax all evening and she didn't sleep well that night, although she never sleeps well anymore. Out of the slight couple hours of sleep she managed to get, she dreamed of Anthony sniffing her hair and pinning her underneath him. He called her his wife and tried to kiss her. She leaned away, feeling disgusted. She tried to run; he grabbed her wrist in a tight grasp. He looked at her with a sickening grin, his face contorting into Mr. Turpin's. "I love you" he snarled.

She bolted upright, feeling hot and sticky. She almost opened her mouth to scream for Rachel, her dear nanny, but remembered that she's not home anymore, she's in an inn in London. And tomorrow, she'd be on a ship set for Paris. With Anthony. And he'd be her husband and she, his wife. And he'd be happy, and he could kiss her, and more.

Her hands felt clammy, and they shook gently.

"From one cage to another." She muttered in the dark.

Next thing she knew, Johanna was stepping into the dark of the London night. She scribbled a note for Anthony to see when he woke up. She didn't know what to say so she kept it simple:

Thanks for your help. Goodbye.

It wasn't until she had managed to walk about five miles, the inn no longer in sights behind her, that she realized the multitude of what she's just done. She stopped on the sidewalk. The rain was pouring down. A wide grin spread across her lips, and she let out a victorious shout of glee. Johanna laughed and twirled in the rain droplets, finally free from her cage.

Smile still on her lips, she continued walking until a thought of a terrifying realization hit her and her footsteps halted. Now she's alone. With nowhere to go.

Her mind drifted to her father. She should have never left him. He was quite possibly the only family she had left. Her nanny, Rachel, the woman who felt like a mother to her, left Turpin's employment years ago, who knows where she could be. It's only been twenty-four hours since she last spoke to her father.

Her pace quickened and she felt confident that she remembered where Fleet Street was. She had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't be there. Why would a murderer stay put, where the law could easily find him? After all, she's the one who told him to move on and find happiness, just after he wished the same for her.

"I want you to move on. I want you to be happy; I want to look up at the horizon and wonder if my new siblings are alright."

She made him promise that, and she's certain that he would or at least try his best.

She turned the corner and there stood 186 Fleet Street. She froze and quickly ducked into the shadows, even though it was past midnight, the shop was surrounded by police officers. She stood in the alley across from the establishment. To her assumption, they had just recently gone through the entire premise.

"The bloody bakehouse still reeks of death." She heard a man say as he stepped out into the night.

"There's no sign of them." Another said to a constable staring up at the building as if to study it. "Should we search all of London, constable?"

"Do you have any idea how long and exhausting that would be." The man groaned, he sounded bitter and tired.

"Sir?"

"Are you sure the baker is the corpse you found?" the constable asked a different man to his right; he must have been the coroner.

"It was hard to tell, being all charred, but it was most certainly female. The remains were inside the oven. My guess is that they had a spat, and he pushed her in. Then fled into the night."

Her brows knit in confusion, did her father murder his neighbor? And why? Perhaps she didn't know he killed the judge and beadle, and he was afraid she'd turn him in? She realized for the first time just how much of a monster her father secretly was.

A very loud woman began raving onto the scene as if from nowhere. "She's not dead." The woman screamed. "I know it. I know it, I tell you. She's the most bloodthirsty, selfish woman in all of London." She waved her finger at the surrounding men and constables. "She was always envious of my shop's success. I guarantee you this was all her plan. She wrangled that barber into killing men for her, then she offed him and took the money."

The tired looking constable didn't budge or make eye contact with the woman as if he was hearing a load and rubbish and knew it. "And do you have any idea where she could have gone, Mrs. Mooney?" he asked.

"Check the coasts." She barked. "She's always fancied being by the sea."

"I do need to stop by Grimsby to visit my wife." A pompous, rich looking man spoke to the constable. "I'll check the towns on the shore, see if there's anything suspicious."

"Do what you must Detective Wells." The constable answered.

They seemed to be wrapping up their investigation. And as stupid as a plan that this was, Johanna wanted to get inside the premise. The men continued chatting out front, they're backs were turned and they began to slowly move away. "Let's call it a night, gentleman, we'll continue in the morning." The constable said to them all. Johanna stayed put as all the onlooking neighbors, the loud, crazy, shop owner woman, and all the men of the law left Fleet Street. Once she was sure to be alone, she quickly ran up to the door.

The handle of the front door of the meat pie emporium was bashed and broken off, lying on the ground. She gently pushed on the door, relieved that it swung open. There was a scary eeriness to the place. She quickly walked through the pie shop into the actual living area itself. What was once a cozy home now felt cold and desolate, a true crime scene. The draft was too much for her as she stepped towards the fireplace. She found the wood nearby and placed a fresh log inside. As she wondered where the matches might be, she paused her actions, realizing that smoke shouldn't be rising from an abandoned home's chimney.

Or perhaps scaring the neighbors into thinking the place is haunted would be fun? She went for practicality and left the fireplace alone. Rubbing her hands up her arms shivering, she opted for wrapping up in the blanket that was draped over the settee, making a mental note to put everything back in its original place if the investigators were truly going to be visiting again in the morning.

Now with a blanket across her shoulders, Johanna's curiosity won over and she was eager to explore the home. She saw the stairs leading upstairs to her father's shop no doubt. She glanced at all the knickknacks scattered among the room. They were some weird ones, like a stuffed snowy owl, and several worn porcelain dolls. She still found them more comforting than Mr. Turpin's statues of naked women.

She stared at the portrait of a portly man with a giant mustache. She wondered who he was? There was an urn next to his picture. That must be where he ended up. Her eyes then settled on the woman in the portrait next to the man. They must have been married, and owners of the shop.

Johanna ogled at what must have been the mysterious Mrs. Lovett. She was very beautiful. "Did father really kill you?" Johanna muttered aloud to the picture.

"Sorry for intruding in your home." Johanna spoke to the possible ghosts as she looked around the parlor hoping to find another blanket.

She managed to find the bedroom and thankfully several more blankets. She couldn't help herself and looked through the wardrobe. There were less dresses than she was expecting. Some of them she was tempted to try on, they were so beautiful, and different from her own. She realized that she herself has nothing but the clothes on her back. Her current dress that she grabbed last minute, a light shade of green and a collar that goes all the way up to her chin, with brown laced ruffles poking out underneath.

It was very late in the night as she remembered after being unable to hold back several yawns. She didn't feel comfortable sleeping in the Lovett's bed, however. She borrowed some more blankets and planned to huddle up on the floor in the parlor or on the sofa. When leaving the bedroom, her clumsy footing landed on the now three blankets dragging on the floor. Her knees ached as she slammed into the floorboards by the bed. She sat up and rubbed her knee then hastily fixed the rug that was now out of place. Upon doing so, she noticed one of the wooden floorboards sticking out higher than the others.

She lifted the wood. There was a leather bond book. Herself along with blankets and the book returned to the parlor. She sat on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace with blankets draped all around her and read the booklet till sleep finally grasped ahold of her.

It didn't take long for Johanna to realize this strange book was the perhaps late Mrs. Lovett's diary. She hadn't planned on reading it for the length of time that she did but couldn't put the thing down.

"Twenty third of January. Albert's been gone now for four months. I never imagined I'd miss the bastard so much. Although, when you're all alone. I'm starting to think even the most horrid of company would be welcoming."

A new entry.

"It's been five years now that Albert's been passed. I think I'm beginning to go mad. The only customer I'm getting, is filthy Tom from the pubs. He comments on how disgusting my ale has gotten then offers far too much of a tip. Saying how he sees how lonely I am. Suggesting that I could use a bit of company."

Johanna leaned in closer to the words.

"I always refuse. I'm not that desperate. Yet. Oh Albert, I truly am sorry. Your sex goddess isn't what she used to be."

Johanna quickly looked up from the book, blushing. His what!?

She continued reading being far to fascinated in this woman's tales. She flipped around a bit, never truly starting at the first entry. She soon learned a lot of Mrs. Lovett. The day her and her husband Albert got married. The several entries in the beginning of her period of depression she fell into when the couple failed to have any children. And eventually, Johanna found the most interesting part of the diary. Mentions of her mother's name, her name, and especially her father's.

Johanna could tell straight away that this woman was madly in love with her father. She rambled on about him for ages. Things he said to her, all the times he smiled. She kept the diary very vague and didn't write in it too often. Johanna quickly flipped to the back, excited to see if there's anything on the killings.

Nothing.

The latest entry being about half a year ago stating. "He's finally come home."

Johanna dropped the book to her lap. What if Mrs. Lovett was alive? And that loud crazy lady said she was by the sea. What if father didn't kill her, but took her away with him? Just like Anthony took me away. She wished that were the case, dearly. But if Mrs. Lovett did leave, why would she leave this diary behind for the law to find? Although there's not a word of the crimes listed into it, so even if the law did find it, it'd be useless. Perhaps that's why she didn't write anything of the crimes down. "He's finally come home" doesn't specify whether she's speaking of Benjamin Barker or not. Before that, the woman wrote countless entries of slowly going insane, wandering the streets aimlessly, depressing tales of almost starving to death, there's even an entire guide she wrote on how to correctly pickpocket someone and specific tips for whether they're male or female.

Johanna was certain that she was talking about Benjamin Barker coming home, but for all the law could know "He's finally come home" could be addressing Albert and the woman's gone officially mad.

She closed the book and laid down on the floor preparing her mind for sleep. She didn't know the truth of what happened, but the thought of Mrs. Lovett being with her father, relaxed her and a smile formed on her lips.

The next morning, Johanna scrambled awake quickly remembering just where she was and more importantly that the law could come back to investigate. She took the blankets and placed them back where she found them. She stuffed Mrs. Lovett's diary into her pocket, she'd like to keep it, so the law doesn't take it. Her fingers brushed along the frame her father gave her. She smiled down at it, seeing her mother and her as a baby. A version of herself she has no memory, her infant self was a stranger, all smiles and looking filled with glee.

Johanna stuffed the frame and book into her pocket and looked to the mantle on the fireplace. Without thinking, she grabbed the portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Lovett, she wanted to keep that as well. Hopefully the law wouldn't notice but then again why would it matter to them.

Her stomach was growling as she stepped out of the pie shop and back into the mercy of the streets. She passed by establishments and restaurants but didn't have to money to go in. She frowned wishing she could have her morning hot chocolate just like she always used to have. She cursed herself for being stupid enough to forget to grab any money when she fled into the night. Frowning in discomfort she realized that she might need to get a job for herself. Although spending more time in London would mean a higher possibility of Anthony finding her one day, and that her father was miles away, probably on a ship to another country by now.

After about an hour of walking aimlessly and pointlessly down the now busy streets. Johanna stopped near the market, her stomach screaming in hunger and her head starting to feel very light. She considered trying to steal an apple, or carrot, anything.

"Need some money." A man spoke next to her.

She faced the stranger looking surprised. How did he know? "Yes, Sir, I do. I haven't anything at all."

"I'll give you money." The stranger said, his face showed no emotion at all.

"Really?" Johanna asked. "You'd spare some coins for me? That's so polite of you, Sir."

"Really." The stranger said and within seconds had both his hands on the fabric of Johanna's breasts. She shrieked in alarm and took a step back. "Come now," the stranger said and to Johanna's horror he was backing her into a corner. "I'll make it worth your while."

She smacked him across his cheek with the daintiest of slaps that hardly stung the man at all but did enough to enrage him. She yelped and bolted up the street, the man hot on her heels. Costmongers and customers alike shouted cursed and gasped as the two ran through the market at top speed. Johanna barely managed to skid by a cart of cabbages that the man wasn't quick enough to avoid. He fell over the cart tipping it over filling the streets with cabbages.

Johanna thought now may be a good time to snatch one up but thought against it, especially now that the whole square had gone silent and was staring at the tipped over cabbage cart. She made a quick exit while the stranger and cabbage costmonger were arguing.

Leaving the market her thoughts and worries once again revolved around food. She pays close attention for the first time at how many people in poverty are on the streets. They were honestly on every corner. The saddest of them all was the children. One of them was proudly clutching a pigeon in their hands carefully looking around afraid someone would steal it. Johanna cringed. She remembers now of a woman in a dirty dress that would pace back and forth outside of her window. She'd sing asking for alms.

She walked her way towards the park. She was eager to try out begging. It was a sunny day; people would be in high spirits. She approached the nicest looking woman reading the newspaper. "Alms?" Johanna asked.

The woman eyed her questioningly before letting out a mean scoff. "You takin' the piss? You expect me to think your homeless, dressed like that." The woman motioned at Johanna's gown made of expensive linen and silks. "Wot, did ya get yourself knock up or somethin' and daddy kicked you out?" Johanna opened her mouth to politely explain her situation. "Piss off." The woman with the newspaper walked away.

People are so mean. Johanna stood dumbfounded.

Spirits broken, she continued walking. Without even thinking she ended up towards the courthouse, surprised she even had the strength to keep standing upright. She recognized familiar faces that made her stop her steps. It was the group of policemen that were outside the Lovett's pie shop the night before.

Swallowing nervously, she came up with a possibly very idiotic plan. These constables are trying to find her father Sweeney Todd and so is she. Why not work together?

Very boldly, she approached the gentlemen, standing behind them.

For many minutes they paid her no mind until she let out a very light "Ahem."

The officers turned, looking down at her. "Need help with something Miss?" Said the tallest, he had a scraggly beard and mustache, he had bags under his eyes as if he hasn't slept well or slept at all in many nights. His uniform was different than the other officers, he was of a higher rank. And he was the same constable that the men were addressing last night in front of the pie shop.

She couldn't remember seeing him around the courthouse before, but she surely must have. "Are you hiring?" Johanna began. "Do you need an assistant, or a squire?" the man's eyebrows rose. "Of the sorts." Johanna finished her confidence faltering.

"A squire?" the officer asked. "Like the person who follows behind a knight?"

"Or a lord." Johanna shrugged and smiled.

"Huh." The man muttered. The policemen behind him were all looking at each other silently.

"What I mean is," Johanna tried again. "Is that I'd like to learn more about cases, to help with them."

"You want to be a police officer?" the man asked.

"Yes," Johanna smiled.

"I see." He began, his friends still looking confused behind him. "Well, there's a lot of training involved." He stated and Johanna nodded. "And we don't hire women. You could apply to be a police matron. However, there are no positions opened right now. And you wouldn't be going on any cases, you'd be assisting with the female inmates. Making sure they eat and trying to clean up after them and what have you." Johanna was looking glum. "I can have you speak with the matron."

The men behind him returned to looking bored. "Did I say I wanted a job?" Johanna fumbled. "I'm sorry, I haven't eaten yet today, my mind is in shambles. I meant for my brother." The men looked at her suspiciously. "He always idolized you gentlemen but has been too shy to talk with you, so I rushed over when I saw that you were here."

The constable eyed her for a bit before turning to another officer. "George, hand me a pen." He scribbled something down in a booklet and handed the torn-out paper to her. "Have your brother meet me at this address around four' o' clock. We'll discuss some things."

Johanna beamed. "Yes Sir. He'll be delighted."

"And here," he fished out a shilling handing it to her. "Go get you something to eat."

She looked at the coin in utter joy. "Thank you, sir."

Johanna sat in a different meat pie emporium, an owner by the name of Mr. Smeade; it was the closest thing from the courthouse. The single butcher ran the place, and he was the biggest and strongest man Johanna has ever seen. At this time, she was the only customer in the shop, seated at the counter with a pork pie in front of her that she tried not to scarf down all in one bite. That would be unladylike her nanny would say.

"Do all the butchers in the city know each other?" Johanna asked out of the blue.

"It's a big city." The beefy man said.

"Did you know Mr. Lovett?"

The butcher slammed his meat cleaver down hard looking towards. "Old Bertie? Yeh I loved that man." He laughed. "He was best mate." The butcher turned solemn. "And then he died." Johanna matched his expression. He looked towards her, leaning in close, eyes scanning the shop before saying. "You know, rumor has it, it was his wife that was the one that killed him." The man nodded.

Johanna's eyes grew wide. Mrs. Lovett?

"They found him outside the pub, late one night. Head bashed in by a blunt object." He pulled a stool over taking a seat across from Johanna. "What they think happened, is that he went out to the pub for a few drinks, he got into a bad habit of drinking all the time." The man added with a wave of his hand. "The pub wasn't too far from his home. So, what they think is that he stumbled out for a drink, wife's sleeping at home, and some person attacked him, beats him over the head. Poor bugger." The beefy butcher looked down sad once more.

"I never trusted his wife." He continued. "You know my business is booming." Him and Johanna both looked around the empty shop. "Now's a bad example, but its booming." He tapped on the counter standing up, walking over to continue his chopping of what she thinks was pork. "Now my pies may not be as good as Mrs. Lovett's, but the rumor now is…" he looked her way once more. "That the pies were made with human meat."

Johanna took a bit of her own pie at the worst time, coughing and chocking on it. "I know." The butcher continued. "Sickening." He went back to chopping the pig. "And the other pie owner, Mrs. Mooney," he scoffs. "Oh, she's as looney as they get. She uses cats in her pies and about half the city knows it. So, no one goes there anymore. Which means, I get all the business now." He stated proudly. "I advertise that my pies are made of nothing, but pork and I chop the pork up here in front of them so they knows it."

Johanna cringed looking at the bloody half of a pig sitting on the other counter. Her pie was mostly eaten but she lost her appetite at the mention of human meat. That can't be true, can it? She turned pale remembering seeing the judge gutted by her father. It's not that much different than how the butcher is gutting a pig now. And then that chute that must have led to the bake house. She looked up in horror. Oh God, Father, say it isn't so. "Yeh, never trusted that woman. She was a looker though; Bertie would ramble on about those juicy balloons of hers."

"You alright?" the butcher asked her. "Did I make you come over funny?" he looked sincere. "Sorry, people always say I talk too much."

Johanna stood up from the table, placing down the shilling. "Thank you for the pie."

The butcher nodded. "You take care now."

A thought crossed her mind. "Do you know where I can get any… boys' clothes?"

The butcher's eyebrows pushed together. He eyed Johanna up and down to the point she started feeling nervous. "You look to be my son's size."

She left the shop with a thank you now fully dressed as a working-class lad with a bag swung over her arms that contained the photos of Mr. and Mrs. Lovett, the diary, and her dress and a tweed hat covering her no longer long golden hair, borrowing a pair of sheers from the butcher, Mr. Smeade, she chopped her long hair up to her chin creating a wavy yellow bob. She kept her photograph of her mother inside her pocket for the safest of keepings. It was nearly four according to the big clock, so she made her way to the address given to her by the constable.

They met in a pub on Bouverie Street. The constable was alone, already seated at one the of the tables reading what looked to be the book of Matthew. Johanna swallowed her nerves and sat down across from him. The constable folded the bible shut, not yet looking at her. "Pleasure to meet you," he looked up and extended his hand to Johanna, "I'm Constable Ronnie Sikes."

"Jo." Johanna said in a forced deep voice shaking his hand.

Constable Ronnie leaned back in his seat looking quite amused. "You sure do look a lot like your sister." Johanna was sweating already. "Must be twins."

She forced a fake smile. Mr. Sikes leaned forward. "Well then, lets talk business." He began. "For starters, you can tell me who you really are and what you're playing at, and I maybe won't arrest you for lying to a police officer."

Her heart just sank into her stomach.

"The disguise is a nice touch by the way, haircut and all. And the clothes? I hope you didn't steal them."

"They were given to me." Johanna said using her real voice and proving that she is indeed in a disguise as a boy. "You wouldn't have met with me if I were a woman."

"I said you couldn't be a man of the law because you're a woman." Sikes corrected. "Why do you want to learn more about cases? Girls like you usually just dream about getting married, or…" he trailed off. "You could apply to be a governess."

Johanna met his eyes bravely. "I want to find the demon barber."

The constable stiffened at that, sitting up straighter. "What do you know?" he asked. "You could approach any of us you realize. At any time, its our job to help people."

"He's, my father."

The pub felt very quiet as far as Johanna and Sikes were concerned, the place was more accurately roaring with noise. The constable brought his hands to his face thinking deeply.

"You're tracking him down are you not?" Johanna asked. "I'd like to accompany you. To find him."

"You do realize." Sikes said. "That if I do find him, it'll be to bring him to face justice and pay for the crimes he committed. What do you know about the case?"

"I saw him kill the judge." Johanna spoke quietly. The constable looked stunned. "That's it. But the judge was a horrible monster."

"Yes, I wasn't a fan of the man myself, but a murderer is a murderer." Sikes spoke.

An anger flared up in her. "He sent my father away to Australia on a false charge, did something so horrible to my mother that she committed suicide, and kidnapped me as a baby and left me locked in a room for most of my childhood. Then, to top it all off, he wanted to marry me."

Now the entire pub had gone quiet, due to Johanna's feathery shrieks.

"I'm sorry for your predicament and loss." The constable said.

"Please let me help find him. I need to get out of this city. I've been trapped here my whole life." Johanna spoke. "And I want to learn more about the baker, Mrs. Lovett." She added. "I don't think she's dead." The pub had gone back to raging with noise and singing. "I think my father took her with him. I think they're in love." Johanna said with a small smile.

"Alright," Sikes began. "You can accompany me." Johanna beamed in excitement. "However, we must do things my way. And I can't exactly pay you, so this won't be a job."

"Thank you, Sir."

"A train stopped off schedule yesterday." He spoke. "Detective Wells left early this morning to investigate along the coasts, like Mrs. Mooney suggested. They found your father on the train. Heading north." Johanna tensed. "He got away. And about three men were killed, two of them men of the law." She frowned, feeling fearful for her father. "I'm not believing that this man has only killed once. The beadle is missing as well as countless others." She clenched the sides of her pants. They were cooking men into pies, weren't they? "I do believe that the baker is alive."

Johanna felt hopefully at that, being assured that her father wasn't alone.

"That leads to the next question being, who's female remains did we find in the bakehouse? There were child remains in the bakehouse as well."

Johanna gasped, her face turning grey.

Constable Sikes looked at her, his expression soft. "I agree with you that Judge Turpin was a monster. Your father is a monster as well."

"Just a different kind." Her small voice said.

Sikes rented two rooms at a London inn that night. Wishing her a night's well rest because they'd be heading to Ipswich at dawn by train. It was around there that the train made its abrupt stop. Johanna felt extremely giddy, practically floating and dancing around her room that she had all to herself. She was ever so grateful that they were in a different inn than the one Anthony booked. Although Anthony was probably out searching the city for her by now. She prayed that the boy would just move on.

He was handsome, some other girl would take a liking to him, and he wouldn't remember Johanna's name.

At least that's what she hoped. She got into bed praying to never see Anthony again.

The next morning Sikes woke her up very much before dawn and told her they needed to make a quick stop before boarding the train.

Johanna groaned lightly her head still heavy with sleep as she pulled her only dress on. Sikes fully decked out in his uniform eyed her expression once they met face to face in the hallway. "You're an affluent lass, aren't you? Or you used to be?" She squinted at him in question. "Its alright, my daughter never liked waking up early either. Now let's go." Sikes spoke already heading out of the inn.

This quick stop the constable planned was to have breakfast at yet another pie shop. Johanna frowned going inside. She chose to follow this constable and has no place to complain, but she was sick of meat pies.

The shop was empty as they took their seats at one of the small tables. The place looked filthy and had a strange, filthy odor.

"Here you go, 2 of my most popular pies." The woman says minutes later after greeting them setting two steaming plates down in front of them.

Johanna looks up quizzically. "There's not cat in this is there?" She asks pointing at the pie and looking up at Mrs. Mooney.

The woman looked as if she was slapped across the face. She began fumbling with her words as if chocking on what exactly to say. "Why of course there's no…" she paused trying to calm down. "It's beef." She said quickly, walking away.

Johanna looked to Sikes. "You can eat on the train if you'd prefer. We're here on business anyway."

"Mrs. Mooney, a couple questions if you'd please." The woman looks utterly nervous, she was sweating. She came back over to the table.

"We'll be tracking down the demon barber." Sikes began and Mrs. Mooney perked up. "And Mrs. Lovett."

"Thank God," she muttered.

"You and Mrs. Lovett we're friends, yes?"

The woman scoffed loudly. "Me? Friends with that harlot!? Never."

"What's her first name?" Johanna asked.

"Nellie. That's what she liked to go by."

"Any information about the case you'd like to share?" Sikes asked her. "You were quite riled up the other night. You believe her to be alive, when the papers will be saying otherwise."

"Yes, she's alive. That witch is far too clever to get killed."

"What are your motives?"

"I just know." Was all she said.

Sikes was silent for a moment. Johanna's darted from Sikes to Mrs. Mooney. Until finally, Sikes stood up, grabbing his hat. Johanna followed his example, mirroring his actions. "Thank you for the pies, Ma'am, my associate and I will be heading out now on a case."

"You're searching for him, aren't you?" she asked. Sikes nodded. "Bring that she devil to justice to would ya? I swear to it, she's still out there. She's too cunning to die."

"We'll do our best ma'am, thanks again." Sikes was ushering Johanna out the door; she had a sense he was wanting nothing more than to leave.

"Please do. She killed the love my life you know. My dear, dear Bertie." She started breaking down crying softly from behind the counter.

Sikes and Johanna exchanged looks being confused yet uncomfortable. This poor woman was all alone and broken. "Take care, Winnie." Sikes said sincerely. And he quickly left the premise with Johanna at his side.