A/N: Once again, me no own, you no sue.

Tourniquet: Chapter 3- Nobody Home

Mrs. Lovett was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with Toby's head resting on her chest. He looked so sweet and innocent laying there. His breathing was much less raspy and his wounds were starting to heal. His skin was still a deathly pale, though, which made him look like a porcelain doll, and if he fell he would shatter into a thousand pieces.

The doctor said that in a week or so he would be able to go home. Mrs. Lovett was very happy with this development, but she was also worried. Waiting back in Fleet Street, Sweeney was still pacing his shop. She defiantly didn't want him around when she brought Toby back home.

She needed a way to get him to leave. He had over stayed his welcome. She was so happy when he came home after all thoughts years, and had given him everything that he needed, and had helped him in any way she could. She gave her love to him but he had not given her any in return. He had crossed the line with almost killing Toby.

She sighed and stroked Toby's hair. The last few times she had gone back to her shop she had heard Sweeney pacing, but she dared not go up. She didn't know why he continued to do this. He had gotten his revenge, he should let it all behind him, not like she would tell him that though. The judge was dead, the beadle was dead, and Lucy was "dead". Actually, she was still wondering the London streets. Not like she cared anyway. She knew that she would never have Sweeney to herself, and now she didn't want him anymore.

"Stupid, crazy, murdering, cold-hearted, good for nothing barber with a stupid, crazy, blond haired wretch for a wife", she muttered to herself. "Who needs 'em."

Later that day, Mrs. Lovett made her way back home. It was starting to get dark out, so she quickened her pace. She walked up to the front of the shop and unlocked the door. She slowly walked into the dark, dust ridden pie shop and into the back parlor.

She sat down. It was quiet. Too quiet. No pacing. No creaking of the floor boards. Not even the occasional sound of some blunt object being thrown across the barber shop upstairs. She heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. She started to worry.

Maybe he's asleep. she thought to herself. That's it, he's asleep. Not like he dose that a lot. Wait, what am I thinking? Why should I care. He could of jumped off a cliff for all I care. She gave a small, quiet, sarcastic laugh.

After about another hour, she still heard nothing. She then decided to go up and investigate. She kept telling herself that she was not going up because she was worried about him, but because of sheer curiosity. She grabbed a lit candle, for it was quite dark out, and crept up the stairs to the barber shop.

When she got to the top of the steps she found a note on the door. She ripped it from were it was pinned up and held it to the light. It read:

Dear Mrs. Lovett,

As you have probably figured out by now, I'm gone. If you're even thinking about it ,and something tells me you're not, don' t come looking for me. I've gone to clear my head and get as far away as I can from this wretched place. I don't know were I'm going or if I'm ever coming back.

Sincerely,

Sweeney Todd

She finished reading the note and then crumpled it up. She then sat down on the steps with her face in her hands and stared to cry. She hated that man so much, she should be glad that he was gone, but deep down inside her she still had feelings for him. She didn't know why. She shook her head. She was so confused.

"I just need to get some sleep." she said to herself. "I'll figure this out in the morning."

She then descended the stairs and walked back into her shop.