FicWad

A/N Some quick info before you start reading first off the female characters in this are auditionies so they will be different second this is a timeless rendition so clothes and what not will be different thirdly Mikey and Gerard are not brothers or related in anyway and finally some parts of songs are cut out if they dragged on to much I’ve tried to get the dialog as word to word as possible but it may not be perfect, read on and enjoy!




No place Like London


I stood on the small boat a grimace on my crumpled features a young sailor stood before me looking out to the town he closes his eyes and lets the wind whip his long hair from his face a small smile on his lips “I have sailed the world beheld its wonders from the Dardanelles, to the mountains of Peru, But there's no place like London!”
He says excitedly his voice only just carrying over the wind, a bittersweet smile rises to my lips “No there’s no place like London”
The sailor jumps and turns towards me no disenchantment present on his handsome face “Mr Way?”
He raises one eyebrow slightly and I turn my attention to the lit up city approaching us I shrug slightly feeling the cold nipping at my thin jacket “You are young, life has been kind to you, you will learn”
I move away from the man and lean against the side of the boat I mutter to myself “There's a whole in the world like a great black pit and the vermin of the world inhabit it and its morals aren't worth what a pin can spit and it goes by the name of London”
I spit on the floor before continuing with my rant “At the top of the hole sit a privileged few making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo, turning beauty into filth and greed....”
The young sailor cocks his head slightly gesturing for me to elaborate. I stand up and smile slightly looking back out at the city “I too have sailed the world and seen its wonders. For the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru. But there's No Place Like London!”
My voice rises towards the end and I grip the rail of the boat tight knuckles turning white from the pressure. I close my eyes and take in the smell of the city putrid and greedy. “Is everything alright, Mr Way?”
I turn to the sailor looking deeply into his dark hazel eyes heavy lidded and kind “I beg your indulgence, Frank. My mind is far from easy in these once familiar streets I feel shadows, everywhere”
I feel the need to shudder the dark events from years ago all coming back to me as quickly as the illuminated city nears, I feel the need to share my story with the young man “There was a barber and his wife and she was beautiful A foolish barber and his wife she was his reason and his life and she was beautiful, and she was virtuous and he was naive.”
I suddenly found myself back in rosy London the sun beating down upon me my beautiful wife’s hand linked with mine buskers playing around us and our new born daughter gurgling happily in her pram I turned towards Samantha her green eyes shone brightly and her dark hair contrasted against her moon tan skin. A darkness seem to fall then as I continued with my story “There was another man who saw that she was beautiful A biased vulture of the law, who with a gesture of his claw removed the barber from his plate! Then there was nothing but to wait! And she would fall! So soft! So young! So lost and oh so beautiful!”
I watched my former self be ripped away from my family the tears from all those years ago returning with fierce passion I whipped them away returning my features to their normal scowl. Frank looked sympathetic his dark hair tousled in the wind “And the lady, sir... Did she succumb?”
I laugh slightly though I don’t know why; shaking my head I answer his question “Oh, that was many years ago I doubt if anyone would know”
The boat pulled up to dock and I turned to the young sailor “I'd like to thank you, Frank. If you hadn't spotted me, I would be lost on the ocean, still.”
I offer him a small twitch of my lips before turning and walking of the boat he calls after me “Will I see you again?”
I turn my head looking at his expectant face “You might find me if you like.
Around Fleet Street, I wouldn't wonder.”
I tell him before heading down the busy road the streets seem to fly past me quickly as I mutter to myself “There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and it's filled with people who are filled with shit and the vermin of the world inhabit it."

No there’s no place like London

I found myself quite out of breath when I reach my destination I smile at the familiar shop Mrs Lovett’s Meat Pies Its just as I remember it the only difference a layer of grime covering the windows. I push open the door and a small bell tinkles telling the owner they have a customer a woman with auburn hair popped up from behind the counter flour dusted on her face I assume it is Mrs Lovette herself she grins at me “A customer!”
She shouts her eyes twinkling I move slightly away from the mad woman her bright clothes contrasting greatly against the dark and dusty shop. “Wait! What's yer rush? What's yer hurry? You gave me such a--Fright. I thought you was a ghost!”
She picks up a tea towel and wipes her hands quickly before gesturing towards one of the old leather seats “Half a minute, can't cher? Sit! Sit ye down! Sit! All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks.”
She explained moving back towards the counter and pulling out a rolling pin “Did you come here for a pie, sir? Do forgive me if my head's a little vague-- Ugh! What is that?”
She flicks a bug from the rolled out pastry a frown on her features “But you'd think we had the plague-- From the way that people-- keep avoiding-- No you don't!”
She hits another bug with the rolling pin “Heaven knows I try, sir! But there's no one comes in even to inhale-- Right you are, sir. Would you like a drop of ale?”
She offers getting out a glass and filling it up with golden brown liquid she passes the cup to me and I look into it scared to try “Mind you, I can't hardly blame them these are probably the worst pies in London, I know why nobody cares to take them-- I should know, I make them. But good? No, The worst pies in London-- Even that's polite. The worst pies in London-- If you doubt it take a bite.”
She passes me a soggy pie I look at it then at her she’s waiting expectantly a small smile on her lips I take a bight spitting it out quickly and reaching for my ale downing the liquid hastily it doesn’t wash away the foul taste in my mouth the woman lets out a little laugh “Is that just, disgusting? You have to concede it. It's nothing but crusting-- Here drink this, you'll need it-- The worst pies in London”
She passes me another drink before making her way back to the counter this time spooning grey meat into one of the premade pie cases “And no wonder with the price of meat What it is when you get it. Never thought I'd live to see the day men'd think it was a treat finding poor Animals wot are dying in the street”
She let the grey meat drip from the spoon a sad smile on her lips. She looks up to me suddenly “Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop, does a business, but I notice something weird-- Lately, all her neighbors' cats have disappeared. Have to hand it to her-- wot I calls Enterprise, Popping pussies into pies. Wouldn't do in my shop-- Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick. And I'm telling you them pussycats is quick.”
She trails off at the end moving away from the pies “No denying times is hard, sir-- Even harder than the worst pies in London. Only lard and nothing more-- Is that just revolting? All greasy and gritty, it looks like it's malting, and tastes like-- Well, pity a woman alone with limited wind and the worst pies in London!”
She plays with the rolling pin looking down “Ah sir, times is hard, times is hard”
She notices another bug from the corner of her eye and smashes it with the rolling pin.

She comes over to sit opposite me her icy blue eyes fierce “Isn't that a room up there over the shop? If times are so hard, why don't you rent it out? That should bring in something.”
I suggest gesturing to my old room she sighs shaking her head “Up there? Oh, no one will go near it. People think it's haunted. You see, years ago, something happened up there. Something not very nice.”
I take a sip of my ale frowning “something not very nice?”
She gets up “Trust me, dearie, it's gonna take a lot more than ale to wash that taste out.”
She walks towards a door at the back of the shop and I follow. “Come with me. We'll get you a nice tumbler of gin, eh?”


“Isn't this homey, now? The cheery wallpaper was a real bargain, too. It was only partly singed when the chapel burned down. There you go. You sit down, warm your bones”
It’s noticeably cleaner in here and we take a seat on the floral sofa she passes me some gin before telling her story “There was a barber and his wife, and he was beautiful, A proper artist with a knife, But they transported him for life. And he was beautiful...”
She started a small tug pulled on my chest “Barker his name was-- Benjamin Barker.”
She tells me and I nod “Transported? What was his crime?”
I ask fake naively a smile twitches to her lips “Foolishness”
I nod again and she carries on “He had this wife, you see, Pretty little thing. Silly little nit had her chance for the moon on a string-- Poor thing, poor thing.”
I could suddenly see Samantha sitting alone crying to Josefin our daughter I was launched deeper into the story as Mrs Lovette continued “There were these two, you see, Wanted her like mad, One of 'em a judge, T'other one his beadle. Every day they'd nudge and they'd wheedle. Still she wouldn't budge from her needle. Too bad. Pure thing.”
I could see the judge now his dirty blonde hair stuck down to his forehead glasses sitting on the tip of his nose, in my minds eye his was standing below the window flowers in hand Samantha continued to sob silently upstairs “So they merely shipped the poor blighter off south, they did, Leaving her with nothing but grief and a year-old kid. Did she use her head even then? Oh no, God forbid! Poor fool. Ah, but there was worse yet to come-- Poor thing.”
Mrs Lovette wore a sad expression now her auburn locks falling over her face “Josefin, that was the baby's name. Pretty little Josefin...”
She spoke wistfully a distant look in her piercing blue eyes “Go on”
I encouraged her “My, but you do like a good story, don't you?”
She almost laughed but went on as I’d asked her to “Well, Beadle calls on her, all polite, Poor thing, poor thing. The judge, he tells her, is all contrite, He blames himself for her dreadful plight, She must come straight to his house tonight! Poor thing, poor thing.”
I can now see the Beadle bellow the window his yellow hair messy and his blue eyes holding fake kindness as Samantha agrees to see the Judge “Of course, when she goes there, Poor thing, poor thing, They're havin' this ball all in masks. There's no one she knows there, Poor dear, poor thing, She wanders tormented, and drinks, Poor thing. The judge has repented, she thinks, Poor thing. "Oh, where is Judge Turpin?" she asks.”
I see her taking drink after drink her green almond eyes growing weary “He was there, all right-- Only not so contrite! She wasn't no match for such craft, you see, and everyone thought it so droll. They figured she had to be daft, you see, so all of 'em stood there and laughed, you see. Poor soul! Poor thing!”
The wicked man forced himself onto my wife the other guests all laughing around them as he had his way I stood up outraged blood boiling in my veins “Would no one have mercy on her?!”
I was shaking a vein throbbing in the side of my head “So it is you-- Benjamin Barker?”
The crazed woman asked her too standing up I shook my head “Where is Samantha? Where is my wife?”
“She poisoned herself. Arsenic, from the apothecary around the corner”
She says sadly looking down “Tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen to me.”
She shakes her head “And he's got your daughter”
I look at her questioningly “He? Judge Turpin?”
“Adopted her like his own”
She says tucking a piece of red hair behind her ear my blood begins to boil hatred coursing through my veins “Fifteen years. I've sweated in a living hell on a false charge. Fifteen years dreaming I might come home to a wife and child.”
I spit venom in my voice Mrs Lovette sighs “Well, I can't say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr Barker.”
She says and she’s right, my once neat hair and sculpted face has been replaced with malnourishment and age, my hair sticks up at awkward angles a silver white streak running through it “No. Not Barker. That man is dead. It's Way now. Gerard Way. And he will have his revenge.”
My voice cut through the air like acid and a smile crept to Mrs Lovett’s face “Come with me”
She says and makes her way up the stairs I followed her to my old attic room its bare apart from an old iron bed and a coating of dust “Come in. Nothing to be afraid of, love.”
I’m called over and stand a little off the centre of the room Mrs Lovette is opening up the floor she pulls out a little familiar box I catch my breath remembering its content “When they came for the girl, I hid them. Could've sold them, but I didn't. Those handles is chased silver, ain't they?”
She rays removing one razor blade from the box it glistens in the light “Yes, silver”
I say taking the razor in her hand “These are my friends, See how they glisten See this one shine How he smiles in the light My friend My faithful friend Speak to me, friend Whisper, I'll listen”
I stare at the blade in ore a smile across my face, these blades will help reap my revenge I speak closely to my friend now “I know, I know You've been locked out of sight all these years Like me, my friend Well, I've come home To find you waiting home and we're together and we'll do wonders Won't we? You there, my friend”
I hold the silver up to the slanted window the sun leaking in through the dirt and grime my smile stretches as patterns dance across the blade Mrs Lovette stands behind me “I’m your friend too, Mr Way”
She speaks softly so my voice carries over hers with ease “Come let me hold you”
I pick up a second razor its warm in my hand “If you only knew Mr Way”
The redhead’s voice is sincere behind me “Now with a sigh”
I turn back blades still in my hands Mrs Lovette walks back with me “Oh Mr Way”
She breathes, “You’re warm in my hand”
I tell the blade Mrs Lovette is very close to me now “You’d grow warm in my hand”
She whispers, “My friend, you’ve come home my clever friend!”
I begin shouting “Friends, you shall drip rubies”
I tell them “Mr Way”
“You’ll soon drip precious rubies”
I say a smirk on my thin lips “Leave me”
I say turning back towards my land lady she nods and hurries out the room I hold the blade up to the light at last my arm is complete again


Green finch and linnet bird


I’ve been wandering the streets for some time now the air is cool and my clothes damp from the shower earlier and I’m not really sure what I’m doing. Last night I had stayed in an Inn but with my money running low and the people of London not having much delight with a resident sailor I find myself wondering the streets with little money to my pocket. In an attempt to find Hyde Park I seem to have ended up in a much posher part of the large city grand houses tower above me and snooty men and women turn up their noses at the sight of me none of them offering help to a lost sailor. Sighing in defeat I sit on a bench and decide to enjoy what little sun there is a few people pass me by in designer clothes and neat hair and I decide things could be a lot worse when I hear an angelic voice drifting through the air “Green finch and linnet bird Nightingale, blackbird how is it you sing?”
I look up for the voice finding the culprit as a young beautiful girl sitting at one of the windows above me her pale hair falls loosely and a wistful look haunts her eyes “How can you jubilate Sitting in cages Never taking wing?”
I stand up to get a better look of the girl her features her stunning yellow hair vibrant green eyes and the most wonderful voice I stare up at her in ore and she catches my eye as she continues to sing her beautiful song “My cage has many rooms Damask and dark Nothing there sings Not even my lark Larks never will, you know When they're captive Teach me to be more adaptive”
I smile up at her and she gives a quick grin and drops a key down to me before moving away from the window and into her room I catch the key and sigh enchanted by her beauty I walk up to the nearest passer by a madden wench begging on the streets “Alms for a miserable woman On a miserable chilly morning”
Her voice is rough and I give her a small amount of money her eyes twitch and she thanks me “Could you tell me whose house this is?”
I ask her and she looks up at the house I notice her singed mutilated skin and cringe slightly at the poor woman “That's the great Judge Turpin's house, that is.”
She says excitedly showing off her crooked teeth I nod “And the young lady who resides there?”
I ask looking up at the window “Oh, that's Josefin, his pretty little ward. Keeps her snug, he does. All locked up. So don't you go trespassing there, or it's a good whipping for you, or any other young man with mischief on his mind. Alms! Alms for a desperate woman”
She begins shouting again wondering off down the street I stare in ore at the house intoxicated by the beautiful girl Josefin, I feel you Josefin I start walking towards the door ignoring the crazed woman’s words of warning “I feel you I was half convinced I'd waken Satisfied enough to dream you Happily I was mistaken, Josefin I'll steal you Josefin!”
I tell myself stepping closer to the grand house I’m about to knock when the door flies open revealing a blonde man with piercing blue eyes “Come in lad, come in”
He gestures and I notice he limps as he walks I follow him into the house not suspecting any danger all thoughts on the beautiful girl upstairs. The man leads me into a library like room where a thin man in glasses sits he smiles broadly at me and I guess him to be the Judge “You were looking for Hyde Park, you say?”
He asks and gestures for me to sit down, there’s a fire blazing and the setting is very homely I take a seat nodding “yes, its very large on the map, but I keep getting lost, its embarrassing for a sailor to keep getting lost but there you are”
“A sailor?”
The judge asks impressed “Yes, sir. The Bountiful, out of Plymouth.”
I tell him playing with my hands nervously the Judge things for a moment before getting up “A sailor must know the ways of the world, yes? Must be practiced in the ways of the world. Would you say you were practiced, boy?”
I’m confused by his question and stay silent while he leafs through the bookshelves “Such practices. The geishas of Japan. The concubines of Siam. The catamites of Greece. The harlots of India. I have them all here. Drawings of them. Everything you've ever dreamed of doing with a woman. Would you like to see?”
He asks pulling out a book I shake my head “I think there’s been some mistake”
I tell him getting up the Judge turns to me suddenly very close “I think not. You gandered at my ward, Josefin. You gandered at her.”
I shake my head backing away “Yes sir you gandered”
He spits I walked into the blonde man behind me he smiled “I meant no harm”
I assure him but he shakes his head “Your meaning is immaterial.Mark me. If I see your face again on this street, you'll rue the day you were born.”
He tells me before hitting me hard “Hyde Park is that way, young sir!A left and a right and straight on, you see?”
He ushers me out the back pushing me to the ground I felt blood filling my mouth as The Beadle thwacks me over the head with his stick “You heard what Judge Turpin said, little man. Next time, it'll be your pretty little brains all over the pavement.”
He laughs and I clamber up scrambling away.


I walked quickly away from the house my nose was bleeding but after meeting the Judge my plan was only lodged more into my mind “I’ll steal you Josefin Do they think that walls can hide you? Even now, I'm at your window I am in the dark beside you Buried sweetly in your yellow hair I feel you Josefin and one day I'll steal you”
I tell myself this and make my way towards Fleet Street if anyone is to help me its Sweeney.




Pirelli's Miracle Elixir



I stand next to Mrs Lovette in a crowed of people in front of me a small stage attached to a caravan “He's here every Thursday. Italian. All the rage he is. Best barber in London, they say.”
Mrs Lovette tells me doubt in her eyes we look back towards the stage a small child in rags has clambers on a bottle in their hands “Ladies and gentlemen May I have your attention, please?”
The young boy calls out to the growing audience “Do you wake every morning in shame and despair to discover your pillow is covered with hair what ought not to be there?”
He asks walking to the front of the stage “Well, ladies and gentlemen From now on you can waken at ease You need never again have a worry or care I will show you a miracle marvellous rare Gentlemen, you are about to see something What rose from the dead!”
The boy walks back to the centre of the small stage and removes his hat “On the top of my head!”
Men and women around starting laughing at the boys long golden locks the boy gives the audience a cheeky grin before moving to retrieve a bottle of dark black blue liquid “'Twas Pirelli's Miracle Elixir That's what did the trick, sir True, sir, true Was it quick, sir? Did it in a tick, sir? Just like an elixir ought to do”
He passed the bottle round the audience “How about a bottle, mister? Only costs a penny, guaranteed”
He offers a bottle to a balding man he takes it intrigued more people in the audience reach for bottles getting more and more exited. I look doubtfully at the bottle as its passed around us a nasty smell nipping up my nostrils “Pardon me, ma'am what's that awful stench?”
I ask a woman next to me Mrs Lovette seems to have noticed too “Are we standing in an open trench?”
“Must be standing near an open trench!”
I confirm as Mrs Lovette asked a man next to her “Pardon me, sir what’s that awful stench?”
More people seem to notice around us “Try Pirelli's When they see how thick, sir You can have your pick, sir Of the girls Want to buy a bottle, missus?”
The boy on stage starts selling louder noticing the discomfort in the crowd. The bottle had now reached us and I flip of the lid taking a whiff “What is this?”
I scrunched up my nose “What is this?”
My landlady asks taking the bottle from me “Smells like piss”
I note she takes a sniff “Smells like ewe”
“Looks like piss”
I say looking into the small bottle Mrs Lovette nudged a woman next to us “Wouldn't touch it if I was you, dear!”
“This is piss, piss with ink”
I say loudly the boy on stage seems to have noticed me and made his voice even louder “Let Pirelli's activate your roots, sir!”
I scoff to the man next to me ”Keep it off your boots sir, eats right through”
The boy on stage looks worried now “Yes, get Pirelli's, use a bottle of it Ladies seem to love it”
“Flies do too”
Mrs Lovette shouts out from next to me.

The curtains behind the stage fly open revealing a lightly tanned man dressed all in purple a dark afro on his head “I am Adolfo Pirelli The king of the barbers The barber of kings E buon giorno, good day! I blow you a kiss! And I the so famous Pirelli I wish-a to know-a Who has-a the nerve-a to say My elixir is piss… Who says this?”
He narrows his eyes and whips his purple cape around stairing into the audience “I do”
I speak up and his eyes fall upon me “I am Mr Gerard Way of fleet street I have opened a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir. And I say to you that it is nothing but an arrant fraud, concocted from piss and ink.Furthermore, Signor, I have serviced no kings, yet I wager that I can shave a cheek with 10 times more dexterity, than any street mountebank. Do you see these razors? I lay them against £5. You are no match, sir. Either accept my challenge, or reveal yourself as a sham.”
I smile as a wave of discomfort washes over Pirelli’s face but it is quickly replaced by arrogance “You hear this foolish man? Now, please, you will see how he will-a regret-a his-a folly. Toby! Who's for a free shave?”
I walk up to the stage and climb on along with two other men once on the stage I look for the Beadle “Will Beadle Bryar be the judge?”
I ask the man smiles touching his chin “Glad, as always, to oblige my friends and neighbours.”
His voice is sickly as he climbs on the stage “Ready?”
He asks “ready!”
Pirelli shouts confidently I nod “Ready.”
“The fastest, smoothest shave is the winner!”
Beadle says and I set off sharpening my razors on my leather strap. Pirelli is doing the same the small boy Toby grimacing whenever the blade hits his small fingers; I notice that this close up the boy is very feminine. Pirelli starts lathering up his patient speaking arrogantly to the crowd “Now, signorini, signori We mix-a the lather But first-a You gather around, signorini, signori You looking a man who have had-a the glory to shave-a the Pope! Mr. Way, whoever I beg-a you pardon You'll probably say it was only a cardinal Nope! It was-a the Pope!”
He shouts laughing at himself he has now finished lathering the face and begins cutting hairs “To shave-a the face To cut-a the hair require the grace Require the flair For if-a you slip You nick the skin You clip-a the chin You rip-a the lip a bit Beyond-a repair”
He sings taking time to cut off the hair, I’ve just finished lathering my customers face with cream and I now admire my blade in the light my friend. Pirelli continues cutting away singing to himself I however remove all the hairs in 4 sharp moves beating him. “The winner is Way”
The beadle shouts out earning me applause from the audience below Pirelli looks at me in shock before bowing his head slightly pulling back his cape “Sir, I bow to a skill far greater than my own. The £5. May the good Lord smile on you. Until we meet again. Come, child. Come!”
He drags the child of stage hitting and throwing him into the caravan I hop of stage my winnings in hand Mrs Lovette greets me looking back at the caravan noises of pain escape the small mobile home “Suppose it's just me gentle heart, but I do hate to see a child treated like that.”
She says sadly I nod slightly and the Beadle appears before us “Congratulations, Mr. Way. May I ask you, sir, do you have your own establishment?”
I open my mouth but Mrs Lovette speaks for me “He most certainly does Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor, above my Meat Pie Emporium in Fleet Street.”
She says with a wicked grin The Beadle nods “Thank you sir you shall surely see me there before the week is out.”
He says to be before disappearing off into the crowd.

We were upstairs in the shop Mrs Lovette pulled out an old Barbour’s chair it was coated with dust and cobwebs “It's not much of a chair, but it'll do. It was me poor Albert's chair. Sit in it all day long he did, after his leg gave out with the gout”
I wasn’t listening to her it had been three days since the Beadle had insisted he come over for a shave the closest shave he ever got “Why doesn’t the Beadle come?”
I ask pacing “Before the week is out, that’s what he said”
Mrs Lovette sighs “And who says the week is out, its only Tuesday”
She tries to calm me but I continue pacing “Easy now Hush, love, hush don’t distress yourself What's your rush? Keep your thoughts Nice and lush”
She coos I stop but don’t push the scowl from my face “I've been thinking flowers Maybe daisies To brighten up the room Don't you think some flowers Pretty daisies Might relieve the gloom? Wait Love, wait”
She tells me but my mind is elsewhere “And the Judge? When'll we get to him?”
Mrs Lovette laughs a little “Can't you think of nothing else? Always brooding away on your wrongs and what happened heaven knows how many years ago. Come on. Slow, love, slow Time's so fast Now goes quickly See, now it's past Soon will come Soon will last Wait Don't you know Silly man Half the fun is to plan the plan? All good things come to those who can Wait Gillyflowers, maybe 'Stead of daisies I don't know, though What do you think?”
She asks me I shrug.

There’s noise from downstairs and I run to the top of the staircase looking down there flush faced and out of breath is Frank, the sailor “Oh I’m sorry excuse me”
He says heading up the stairs he spots Mrs Lovette and nods to her “Mrs Lovette sir”
She introduces herself “A pleasure Ma’am”
He greets her with a sincere smile “Mr Way there's a girl who needs my help. Such a sad girl and lonely, but beautiful, too and...”
“Slow down son”
I tell him he’s breathing heavily his words barely audible “Yes I’m sorry”
He apologises before taking a deep breath “This girl has a guardian who keeps her locked away, but then, this morning, she dropped this. Surely a sign that Josefin wants me to help her. That's her name, Josefin”
He says handing me a key Josefin I repeat the name in my mind. My daughter Josefin, she is alive and well ”And Turpin is her guardian. He's a judge of some sort. Once he goes to court, I'm going to slip into the house, release her and beg her to come away with me tonight.”
He says excitedly taking back the key, excitement bubbles within me now too “Oh this is very romantic”
I say my mind wandering “Yes, only I don’t know anyone in London you see and I need somewhere safe to bring her until I’ve hired a coach to take us away, If I could just keep her here for an hour or two, I’d be forever in your debt”
His hazel flecked eyes are wide and begging “Bring her here love”
Mrs Lovette says with a smile on her lips “Oh thank you Ma’am”
He thanks her before rushing out the shop.

I watch out the window as Frank runs off bumping into an Afro headed man in a purple cape “Hello. What’s he doing here?”
I ponder still looking out the window “Keep the boy downstairs”
Mrs Lovette nods and heads down stairs.

*povswitch real quick

I hurry down stairs greeting Pirelli in the shop the poor child at his side, looks more like a dainty girl than a boy “Signora is Mr Way home?”
The man asked me in his thick Italian accent “Plying his trade upstairs. Would you look at it now? You wouldn't mind if I gave it a nice juicy meat pie, would you?”
I asked ruffling the kid at his side’s hair “Sa Sa Sa whatever you want”
Pirelli waves his hands before making his way upstairs I look at the little ragamuffin all skin and bones “C’mon your teeth are strong I hope”

*Back to Sweeney

Pirelli stood in the door entrance his purple cape flapping slightly and his hair as springy as ever “Come in”
I command and he does so “Mr Way”
He greets me “Signor Pirelli”
“Call me Ray”
he said his accent dropping “Ray Toro’s the name when its not professional”
He now had a strong cockney accent but I wasn’t surprised not many Italian Barbours that allegedly served kings ended up in the rough part of London living off a caravan and an orphan child “I’d like my 5 quid back, if you don’t mind”
“Why?”
I ask frowning “Because you entered into our little wager under false pretenses, my friend. So that you might remember to be a bit more forthright in the future, I'll be taking half your profits from herewith. Share and share alike. Mr. Benjamin Barker.”

A/N wow hey guys… so remember how this started out as a oneshot… I feel that wont happen as I’m real tiered and this just keeps going on and on and on… so instead its gonna be a three shot, the nezt part should be up Monday so until then I bit the a do!

Extra info if you need it

Gerard is Sweeney.. duh
Mikey is the Judge
Ray is Pirelli
Frank is Anthony
And Bob is The Beadle

Now spell checked and what not... and maing a whole lot more sense! please review I speant forever on this!