The next day, business was unusually slow, which gave Mrs. Lovett a day to catch up on some rest. She sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace and watched the logs burn, her eyes growing heavy, but not shutting. The door that seperated her room and the pie shop was open, incase a customer were to wander in. Although she was quite exhausted by the end of the night, Mrs. Lovett indeed enjoyed owning her own pie shop. Everyone knew her, because all of London praised her fabulous meat pies. As she rested and watched the fire, she wondered if perhaps she should start adding to the menu. Maybe throw in some apple pies, or blueberry, or cherry; she had always been quite fond of them. She also wasn't terrible at making bacon and eggs, perhaps she could start a breakfast menu for the earlybird customers.

As she thought back to the exciting adventures she'd had before, a small smile crept upon her lips. She had done many things just to get a few tips from people. Nothing horrible, of course, but people did ask her to do quite some ridiculous things. She once performed an entire tap dance for a group of rich business men, and recieved five pennies in return. And for two pennies, she was once asked to juggle a few apples, but only succeeded in keeping them up for five seconds, before dropping them on her shoes. She drew the line, however, when men asked for kisses, or a glimpse at her tight bosom that men just loved to watch.

Men, she thought to herself with a slight roll of her eyes. They only want one thing.

As Mrs. Lovett thought about what had happened last night, she suddenly felt an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach, like something had been planted down there and was starting to grow upwards, towards her throat. She sat up and held her stomach, feeling a bit dizzy. Her breathing began to increase and she stood up, knowing what was going to happen next. She tried to get to the bathroom as quick as she could but couldn't hold it back any longer. Her stomach twisted violently and she bent over, vomiting the little food that she had had in the morning. She felt tears rise in her eyes and her abdomen muscles worked hard and painfully, and she vomited again, feeling her upper body shaking uncontrollably. She whimpered and held her stomach painfully, waiting until she was finally finished.

When there was nothing left in her stomach to throw up, she looked down in disgust, realizing she would have to do some more cleaning later. She leaned backwards somewhat dazed, and held her forehead. What happened? Mrs. Lovett was an extremely healthy woman, and hadn't vomited that badly in years. In her head, she quickly went over what she had eaten over the past week. Everything she had eaten she had cooked herself, and she had been eating her own food for years. It might have been a bug that was going around, but she felt fine.

She tried to shrug it off and as she cleaned the floor, she decided she would pretend it had never happened.

"Mum! There's a man 'ere, I believe 'e's a customer!" The too familiar high pitched voice of the young boy Mrs. Lovett loved so dearly, was heard outside the bathroom door. Mrs. Lovett turned towards the door and opened it a crack, peaking her head out, only to see him standing right outside of it.

"Wha's 'appened mum?" The growing concern in the poor boy's voice melted her heart. Never being blessed with children of her own, Toby was a joy to have around, especially after four painful miscarriages with her late husband, Albert. Although he wasn't technically hers, she considered herself his mother, and that was good enough for her.

"Nothin's the matter, dearie," she reassured him, giving him her cheerful, motherly smile she was known for. "I'll be out in a minute. Ask the gentleman wot 'e wants. There's a few pies already made in the-" Mrs. Lovett put her hand on her stomach and closed her eyes, feeling another wave of nausea overtake her. The mention of food wasn't that lovely right about now.

"...Mum?" He asked, trying to open the door more.

She put her hand up and kept the door only slightly open, and opened her eyes, forcing a smile. "In the oven. You're a big boy now, arentcha? Go an' serve him yeself, try t' see 'ow much you can get in tips." Toby hesitated, and she gave him an encouraging push. "Go on now, nuthin' t' be afraid of. You've seen me do it plenty of times."

Much to her relief, Toby ran off, and she heard him taking orders to the man. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth, and she was eventually able to clean again. Once she was finished, she checked her reflection in the mirror and walked outside, where Sweeney was standing. She gasped, trying to hide how much he had scared her, but failed.

"Oh... Mista' Todd. Didn't see ye there." He didn't say anything, but eyed her suspiciously. She didn't want him to know what had just happened, and silently dismissed herself, and went out into the pie shop, where Toby was counting pennies. Sweeney followed her.

"Look mum! That nice man gave me four pennies!" He smiled proudly and took two, sliding the other half over towards her. "I'll split it with you, mum. You can go out an' get a new pre'ty dress."

Mrs. Lovett smiled and slid the pennies back over to him. "Don't be silly love, I told ye-anything you can make on ye own, you can keep." She winked at him and went over to one of the tables and began cleaning up the plates the man had left behind. Sweeney went up behind her and lowered himself so he could speak quietly in her ear.

"You look strange today, Mrs. Lovett," he said, making her jump. She continued to clean plates and said nothing. "What's gotten into you?"

Mrs. Lovett turned to look at him, holding the dirty dishes in her hands. "Nothin' of any importance, Mista' T," she said softly, her eyes falling away from his. "Now if you'll excuse me." She gave him a nod and walked away, feeling his burning eyes on the back of her head the entire time.

A/N: Hey all. Hope you're enjoying. One quick note--never being pregnant myself, I'm not quite sure of how long it takes until morning sickness kicks in, but I'm pretty positive that it takes more than the next morning. However, I didn't think about that when I started writing this, so if you can please, just work with me? It's really not very essential to the storyline anyway.

Ahem. Moving on to the next chapter! xD