By the time an exhausted and defeated Sir Inspector Blunt arrived at his Streatham home, the damage Sweeney Todd had done in London had been better assessed. A lord and lady by the name of Irving had disappeared, Norwood was missing and presumed dead, and Michael Oberlin's body had been discovered that morning, his stomach split down the middle and his various internal organs extracted and displayed around the room. Additionally, the token sentry that he had ordered to man the prison had been murdered on the concourse. Tobias Reginald was frightened, but guards had been left for his protection. No one expected Todd to resurface in the south, but then, Blunt had to admit that he could not predict the man. The entire department was under siege by the press. Thanks to Morgan Quinn, the newspaper district was now howling about incompetence and corruption to the point of distraction.

Without a clue as to where to begin, no idea how to organize a search effort, and virtually no inkling of what to do about the press, Blunt finally opted to do the only sensible thing: he went to bed at once.

--

Upon his arrival, Anthony had found his charges huddled together by the side of the road, laughing and sharing kisses. He got down from the driver's seat of the coach.

"Ahoy there! Mr. Todd?"

"Anthony. How lovely to see you." Todd drawled, a faraway look in his eye. Anthony silently took note of his ruffled hair (which was normally immaculate) and the redness of Lovett's face as she pressed against him. One of his arms was wound possessively around her waist.

"Mr. Todd, the countryside is lousy with warrant posters."

"Is it? Good likeness, I hope."

Lovett giggled. Swaying like drunks, they climbed into the chaise. Anthony stared in their direction for a full minute, before shrugging, climbing back onto the coach, and laying the whip to the horses.

The drive was long and dull, and Todd and Lovett didn't dare leave the coach for fear of discovery. Anthony managed provisions well enough, and Todd found himself spending the majority of the two day drive asleep in Lovett's arms. She herself was unusually taciturn, but months of sleeping on stone had been less than restful. They were both quite satisfied to doze.

Anthony, on the other hand, found little rest. For one of his youth and vigour, the patience that the whole operation had required was more exhausting than anything. He did little sleeping, considering it his responsibility to watch sentry over the coach during the depths of night. Todd tried vaguely to dissuade him, but to no avail.

Something about his friend had changed. The attention Todd lavished on Lovett was improbably affectionate; out of character for what Anthony had thought was a very stern, stoic and sometimes caustic man. He lacked no authority, nor any of the mystery that Anthony had first perceived upon their watery introduction, but a tenderness seemed to be growing upon him. Perhaps it was for the best.

Late at night, they chanced a quick wash in a frigid tributary stream while Anthony stood guard some distance away. Lovett returned to the coach to sleep, but Todd chose to linger out in the cool February air for a few moments.

"I owe you thanks, Anthony. I know it cost you to help me," he said quietly as he lit his pipe, offering it to Anthony, who modestly refused.

"Nonsense, Mr. Todd. After all you did for me, it was only fair."

Todd leaned against the coach and stared across the misty moor. "You sound tired. I'd offer to drive, but..."

"No, no," Anthony protested with a yawn. "It's a different weariness. I can't quite explain it. I feel better about leaving London behind, though. It's so much crueler now than when I left it. But I was barely sixteen then, and I had my mum, too. Do you have any family, Mr. Todd?"

"I had a wife once. My daughter, well...I expect she's grown now, but I've been away so long..."

"Mr. Todd, may I ask you something?"

Todd took a draw off the pipe. "I can't promise you an answer."

"When we first arrived, you told me about a beautiful woman who had been...well, you know. Were you speaking of your wife?"

"I was."

"And the...you said, a judge..."

Todd clapped a hand to Anthony's shoulder.

"There are some things you cannot understand, Anthony. Maybe some day, I will tell you the whole story, but not today."

Anthony nodded, accepting this. He began to clamber back up to the driver's eat, while Todd went to join Lovett.

"One more thing, Mr. Todd?" Anthony asked quickly. Hanging halfway out of the coach, Todd paused and cocked his head.

"Your daughter? Do you know where she is?"

"Ah," Todd smiled rather ironically. "I hear she resides up Plymouth way, in your area. I should think I'll be seeing her soon enough."

"Well, that's good, then. Goodnight, Mr. Todd."

"Goodnight, Anthony."

Todd ducked back into the cab, curling in against a sleeping Lovett, and they started off again. Anthony sighed, fighting his exhaustion. His friend, whom he had thought he understood, was becoming more mysterious by the moment. But there would be plenty of time to think of it later- they would be in Plymouth before sunrise.

--

Johanna clutched a white fur wrap to herself to stave off the chill. She stood a solitary watch at the top of the sweeping stairs that led up to the house. Rooms had been prepared for her guests, but her apprehension had not abated. It increased as she spied the coach at the end of the drive. It halted on the far end of the cul-de-sac and the driver leapt off the perch and waved vigorously. Smiling to herself, Johanna raised a patient hand to her buoyant husband.

Her attention then turned to the long limbed figure unfolding itself from the back of the cab. Dressed in the wrinkled garb of a gentleman, Sweeney Todd appraised his surroundings. He moved slowly, but with a predatory kind of grace that reminded her of a panther she had seen at the London Zoological Gardens when she was very small. As his gaze fell upon her, she wanted to draw into herself and disappear. His gaze wasn't terrible, but there was something eerie about that wistful half-smile she could barely make out from her vantage point. After what seemed an eternity, he turned back towards the cab and offered his hand to a woman with fiery red hair, clad in a rich maroon velvet wrap.

Mrs. Lovett shivered slightly, and Todd wrapped an arm around her shoulders while Anthony ushered them across the roundabout.

As they approached, Todd was rapt, eyes glued to the willowy form of his daughter. His breath caught in his throat. Lovett tightened her grip on his arm reassuringly.

"She looks like you," she whispered. He nodded his assent mutely. She certainly had her father's straight nose and high arched eyebrows. Her blonde curls were pinned back, wisps of hair framing her face. Upon closer inspection, Todd could find very little of her mother's warmth in her- only the wan ghostliness that faced him in the mirror every morning. In some ways, her coldness was a mercy, giving him relief from thoughts of Lucy.

Don't think on it.

"Mrs. Hope, I presume," he said quietly upon stepping up to the threshold.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Todd," she said briskly, and then turned to Lovett. "And you, Mrs. Lovett. I hope your journey wasn't too uncomfortable."

Lovett looked at Todd and smiled. "Tolerable."

Anthony trundled up the steps behind them, his eyes red with exhaustion. "Johanna, darling, why don't you show our guests in?"

"Yes, please come in."

Todd and Lovett allowed themselves to be ushered into the foyer. Todd promptly began an examination of the cream coloured decor, finding it to be rich, but not pretentious. Money that had no doubt come from the late Judge Turpin's coffers. The idea gave him a pleasurable pause and he grinned to himself.

"You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Hope."

Her expression was not altogether dissimilar to his, he noticed as a small flash of savage delight presented itself on her delicate features.

"Thank you, Mr. Todd, although neither myself or my husband are responsible for its acquisition," she said airily as she led them into the lounge. Todd and Lovett glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

"You're not at all sorry about the Judge's death, then?" Todd inquired while behind them Anthony made a small choking sound.

Johanna smiled a frigid smile. "I think people should be honest about their doings and feelings, don't you, Mr. Todd?"

Todd's glare was clear and penetrating.

"If you say so, Mrs. Hope," he replied monotonously, while Lovett looked on apprehensively.

"I should like you to call me Johanna. We are friends, are we not?"

A strained smile appeared on his face. "If it pleases you...Johanna."

He did not invite her to call him by his first name. He was more accustomed to Benjamin or Mr. Todd, anyway.

"I'm sure you're both weary. Hot baths are waiting for you upstairs, and your beds..." Johanna paused, noting the way Lovett's arm rested in his. "That is to say, your bed is ready."

"That is most kind, Johanna, dear," Lovett said graciously. "It's been so long since we've had a proper bed..."

"I expect you are very tired then, indeed. Will you be down for lunch?"

"I should think so," Todd replied, stroking Lovett's hand.

"Then upstairs with you both." Johanna insisted. Whether or not they were murderers, she couldn't help but notice the curious, cautious affection between them. They weren't so very different than her and Anthony.

"I think I should like to go to bed too, my dear," Anthony yawned, kissing his wife's forehead. "And I daresay I won't be down for lunch."

With that, he turned and began the long journey up the staircase.

Todd cast a small smile at Johanna, who tried to smile back sincerely and failed. Then, he and his mistress followed Anthony, disappearing up the stairs.