Title: The Plot
Author: Unicornpearlz
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Rating: ?
Spoilers: Gives away plot lines for movie. However, beyond basic plot lines, it is not canon.
Warnings: Mentions of blood. It was hard to avoid, given the plot of the movie. But, I did try to tone it down as much as possible.
Disclaimer: While the story of Sweeney Todd is based in fact, this story is based off the recent movie. Therefore, I don't own any of it.
Summary: Mr. Todd takes care of an ill Judge Turpin, at the request of Mrs. Lovett
Bunny: #11

"Wait now, Mr. Todd, I have an idea!" Mrs. Lovett exclaimed as soon as the idea struck her seldom idle brain.

"Yes, what?" Mr. Todd answered politely.  His dream was coming true.  He could see Judge Turpin starting to climb the stairs to his barbershop.  He had little on his mind other than the feel of the slice of the knife in order to feel the rush of rubies from Judge Turpin's throat.  Johanna would be his once again.

"Now, just hear me out dear," she said, as the plan formulated in her mind.  "I know you want your revenge, but think on this for a second."

As the Judge started up the second flight of stairs, Mr. Todd felt his patience wear thin.  "We only have but a moment, Mrs. Lovett.  What is it?"

"Well, in order to make the revenge sweeter, think on this. Why don't you give him a shave."

"The closest he ever received."

Quickly rushing up to him and putting her hand on his arm.  "Not yet."

"Wait longer?" he asked, aghast.  How long did this woman think he would wait?

"Give him several.  Become his friend, his trusted advisor and barber.  And then, when he trusts you the most -."

"Ah ha!" Mr. Todd exclaimed, as he both comprehended the idea and Judge Turpin walked into the room.

"Judge Turpin, what a pleasant surprise," he said, just barely keeping his distain out of his voice.

Clearing his throat, the Judge smiled politely, "I'm sure," he sneered.  "Forgive me sir, but I have quite an important appointment tonight, where I am to tell my intended that I intend to marry her.  I'm asking for a sprinkling of French cologne and a shave."

"The closest I ever gave," Mr. Todd responded, showing the Judge to his seat.

"Right, then.  Might I be getting you a drop of ale?" she asked the Judge, standing far too close to him.

"No ma'am," he answered, his hand fluttering over his nose and mouth. No sooner had she excused herself from their presence than he sneezed abruptly, "Kesshh!"  A stunned expression crossed his face as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket.  "Do excuse me, I don't know what came over me."

"Of course," Mr. Todd, answered gently.  "Are there any more in there? Because it would be quite unfortunate if you were to sneeze whilst I was working."  A cruel smile crossed his lips as he thought of how much he would like that.

"Hah-eh-Kesshh!" the Judge sneezed again, the force of the sneeze bending him at the waist.

Disappointed, but remembering Mrs. Lovett's plan, Mr. Todd put away his shaving blades. "Bless you, sir."

"Dear me, I truly don't know what's come over me," the Judge said, blowing his nose with a startlingly loud honk.

His hand trembling, Mr. Todd carefully placed it on the Judge's shoulder. "How about we get you home, sir.  When you are well recovered, I shall give you the shave you require to propose to your intended."

Nodding, the Judge allowed Mr. Todd to escort him out of the room.

"Heh-Kessh!"

"Bless you, sir," Mr. Todd offered quietly. 

He had escorted the Judge back to his home, and was welcomed to stay by his intoxicatingly beautiful ward - who looked so much like her mother.

"Here are you, Mr. Todd," she said, her sweet voice caressing his heart, as she handed him a cup of tea. 

"And for you," she said, handing the Judge his cup.  "A cold? Really? However did you catch one?"

"I don't know," the Judge said with a tenderness that until that second Mr. Todd was quite sure that he wasn't capable of.  "Thank you for the," his breath hitched. "for the," he withdrew his handkerchief from his pocket, "heh-Kesshha!  Kessh!"

"Bless you," she offered tenderly. "Will you be long? I'll make sure your room is properly warmed for you."  She petted his hand and gazed at him caringly.  She had rebuffed him earlier when he had proposed to her. He was the only father she had ever known, and the idea seemed foreign to her. But, she loved him all the same.

He smiled, his aged eyes wrinkling at the corners as he gazed into her young ones.  "No.  Not much longer.  Thank you, Johanna."

Mr. Todd's heart fluttered at the mention of her name.  His Johanna, standing there, so tender and kind.  Just like her mother.

When she left the room, Judge Turpin cleared his throat, "Mr. Todd."

"Sweeney," he interjected.

"Sweeney.  I thank you for your kindness in seeing me home.  A lesser man would have had me walk home unescorted."

"I am not a lesser man.  Unescorted would have been unacceptable, given your current state.  In fact, if you would like me to summon the doctor -."

Judge Turpin waved his hand.  "No, no. That will no-noha -," he raised his handkerchief to his face, "Hah-kescchh!  Hesketccchh!  HeKETCHOO!"  The final sneeze was followed by a long gurgling blow, which left him light headed.

In an instant, Sweeney was by his side, assisting him to his feet.  "Then, at least, allow me to escort you to your room."

Embarrassed, but too weak and tired to decline, the Judge accepted with a weary nod. "Thang you," he agreed, his voice becoming heavy with congestion.

"The pleasure is mine, sir," Sweeney said, Mrs. Lovett's words echoing in his head.

After he had assisted the Judge in changing, he helped him into bed and covered him with his fine bedding. He looked so fragile and helpless that Sweeney could hardly stop himself from doing him in.  But, a noise at the door startled him, and he turned at once.

Johanna was standing at the door with a hot water bottle and another try of tea.  On the tray was the day's newspaper as well as a stack of fine linen handkerchiefs.  She had obviously done this before.

Unaware of the tears in his eyes, which shone with the pride of a father, he beaconed her in.  She carefully set up the room, speaking tenderly to the Judge, who was drifting off into sweet slumber.

"Perhaps I should take my leave.  The wind is getting harsher, and I have no wish to be caught in the oncoming storm," Sweeney said abruptly.  He couldn't watch it any longer:  his daughter treating the man who had ruined his family, his life, with so much respect and regard.  His need to do away with him growing stronger every second.  Soon he was certain that he would burst with anxiety.

Johanna blinked rapidly, as if the statement took her by surprise.  "Please don't go.  Beadle won't be back for a few hours yet, and I am worried that he will get worse while only I am here."

Swallowing his hate and drawing up every bit of compassion that he could muster, Sweeney nodded and took a sit against the wall, while Johanna sat on the bed next to the Judge.

He watched as she placed her hand upon the Judge's forehead, gasped and jumped back. 

He was on his feet in an instant, and rushing to the side of the bed.  "What is it?" he demanded.  Sickness was not going to take this man. Nothing was going to before he would.

"He's burning up.  I must go get water."

As Johanna fled from the room, Sweeney put his hand on the Judge's forehead. She was right, his fever was quite high.  He knelt down and whispered, "You'll not get a moment's peace until Johanna is returned to me."

The Judge stirred mildly, but did not wake.

When Johanna returned with the water, Sweeney saw to it himself, shooing her from the room and bidding her good night. 

She went reluctantly, certain that the Judge was in better hands with this mysterious friend of his, than he was with hers.

Sweeney sat up most of the night placing cool cloth after cool cloth on the Judge's forehead.  Finally, he felt himself slipping off close to dawn, when he was jolted awake by a very loud, very wet sneeze.

Allowing his eyes to focus in the dim candlelight, Sweeney saw the Judge groping for something on the bedside table.  Concerned that he would knock over everything, Sweeney hastily picked up his handkerchief and handed it over.

Wordlessly, the Judge took it, and blew his nose with a loud honk.  "Exguse be," he said weakly.  His throat was parched and he was confused as to why his lovely Johanna wasn't at his side. "Where is she?" he breathed out.

"In bed.  She was very concerned, but I told her not to worry.  That you're in good hands with your friend Sweeney."

The Judge nodded and clapped his handkerchief to his face.  "Heh- Kachuff! Ke-chum! Shessh!  Heh-eh-Ka-Chesschh!"  He blew his nose lightly, concerned about another embarrassing honk.

"Bless you.  Where did you pick up such a cold?" Sweeney asked, pouring him a cup of cold tea.

"I don't know. Probably from some urchin trying to get money in the st-stree-streets." The handkerchief came up again.  "Hah-chum! Ex- shhumm!" Ka-Chesshh!  Heh-eh. HA-Chessff!"  His nose was running freely now and he had no choice but to blow fully.  To his relief, there was not another honk. 

"Yes, those urchins." Sweeney tried to sound repulsed, but his thoughts went back to Tobias and Anthony.  Smart and devious and young.  Nothing to be repulsed by.  But, he knew the Judge would never understand that.

"Disgusting, deplorable little things.  They belong in work-how. workhouses - Heh-Ketchoo!  Ketchum!  Heh-Heh-Hah-eh-KESSHOOM!"  The final sneeze rocked him almost in half, and he slumped back onto his pillows afterwards.

"Bless you, your Honor."

He nodded, and blew his nose again.  His head started to throb and he groaned.

"Are you feeling worse, sir?" Sweeney asked.

The man's adams apple bobbed, as he swallowed hard, and Sweeney could nearly see the line he would trace with his razor. "I am. unwell, sir."

Folding his hands in front of him, Sweeney asked, "Well, what is bothering you?"

"Apart from the obvious, I am developing quite a headache."

"I'm sure it's only the fever.  You should try to get more rest."  He rearranged the Judge's bedding, and snuffed the candle.

"Good morning," Sweeney said.  "I see you are not feeling better."

"No, I am not," he grumbled back.

"Might I suggest a cup of tea sir?  Perhaps with a smit of gin in it? It should clear you up in no time."

"That sounds accept-accept-ac-cept," he quickly drew a handkerchief off the table and brought it to his face, "Hetchum! Hek-ssshum!  Esk- choo!"  He wiped at his nose gingerly.  It still tickled him unmercifully, and he didn't want to blow unless absolutely necessary.

"Bless you, sir," Sweeney said, handing over the cup of tea and gin.  "Perhaps I should summon a doctor for you?"

"Bea-beadle?" the Judge stammered out, as he took his first sips of tea.  It stung his throat and he could feel the tickle spreading.

"He returned late last night.  I could fetch him if you'd like."

His hands started to shake, as he put down his tea.  Unable to grasp the handkerchief in time, he sneezed into a cupped hand. "Hek-shum! Ehsshum!  Heptcchh!"  Again, the tickle would not relent, but it wasn't forcing out anymore sneezes either.  He sniffed heavily and excused himself as he wiped off his sneeze sprayed hand. 

"No excuse necessary.  It's a cold, and therefore acting very much like itself.  Sneeze as necessary."

The Judge nodded, and his eyes fluttered shut as more sneezes exploded out of him.  Barely reaching his handkerchief in time, the sneezes came barreling out of him, "Heh-Kessh! Eh-Kesshh!  Ah-hah-hah- KESSH!! Ta-Kessh!  Kessh!  Kestccch!" Finally, the tickle abated and
he blew his nose steadily.  After filling up the third handkerchief, he finished his cup of tea and slipped off into gin induced slumber.

When he woke up again, it was dark.  The curtains in his room had been drawn closed.  He saw a tall shadowed figure standing over his bedside.  "Sw-Sweeney?" he stuttered out.

The figure moved closer to him.  "Yes, sir?"

"Oh, thank God it's you.  I had the most odd feeling of dread, just now."

"I wonder why that could be," Sweeney stated, as he brandished his shaving knives.  With one sweep of his arm he came across the Judge's neck.

Judge Turpin screamed and woke up, drenched with sweat.  It was still daylight out, and his curtains had not been drawn.  Sweeney Todd was nowhere to be seen.  Instead, Johanna was at his bedside making quiet shushing sounds.

"Johanna, are you all right?" he asked, hastily.  He winced against his sore throat.

"Here", she said, handing him a warm cup of tea.  "I am fine.  You were having a nightmare.  Would you like to talk about it?"  It was an offer he had always given her. 

"No."  'Just a nightmare,' he thought.

She wasn't surprised that he didn't want to talk about it.  He was a very private man.  The fact that he'd not only brought home a new person, but allowed that person to care for him surprised her immensely.  But, it was not her place to say anything.  He needed care.  After the man had left this morning, she was the only one acceptable to provide it.  However, that didn't bring them any closer than they had ever been.

"How are you feeling, sir?" she asked.  He seemed dazed, as if still lost in the dream that had tormented him for most of the morning.

He snapped out of his thoughts immediately.  His eyes instantly softened when he gazed upon her.  "Better," he lied.  How kind of her it was to ask.  He would never dream of burdening her with his ailment, anymore than was truly necessary.  He smiled warmly at her, but soon replaced his smile with his handkerchief, as the tickle returned.  "Hechessh! Hesshessh!  Hah-Esshessh!"  He blew his nose lightly, though it did little to relieve his congestion.

"Bless you," she said, as her young fingers slowly worked their way from his forehead through his hair.  He was still feverish, though it was not as high as it had been the day before.  "Your friend, Mr. Todd, he is an odd man.  So pale."

"Yes," he answered her, still dazed from his sneezes. "Yes, he is.  He's a barber you know.  He works on Fleet Street."

"I have no knowledge of Fleet Street.  What's it like there?" she asked.  Although the Judge had been a fine guardian, he was very protective.  She had been out of her home very little, only to attend church.

"It's a ghastly place.  Dark and damp, with urchins and the worst pies in all of London."

"How dreadful.  Why is it that you go there?"

"Because he has the reputation for being the best barber in all of London."

"I see."  She didn't really.  It didn't make sense to her that the best barber in all of London be set up in a shop in so ghastly an area.  But, she knew better than to argue.  "Perhaps then you picked up this cold there?"

"Most likely yes."  His sniffed heavily.  Another sneeze was creeping upon him. 

"Here," she said, handing him a fresh handkerchief.

"Th-thank y-Hesshussh!  Hesshessh! Kessh! Kessh! Kesshessh!"  His grey hair tumbled forward, as his head snapped forward with each sneeze. He cleared his nose with a loud honk, and blinked against the fuzziness that took over his vision. "Oh, my." he breathed against the fuzziness.

"Sir?" she asked.

"I must- I must rest," he said softly. 

She helped him lay down so that he would be more comfortable and watched him as he drifted off to sleep.

'Perhaps,' she thought as she watched him sleep, 'he would make just a fine of a husband as he did a guardian.  Perhaps.'

"So, how did it go?" Mrs. Lovett asked, when Mr. Todd returned.

"It was long and tiresome.  But, I believe you were right Mrs. Lovett.  He seems to trust me quite a bit."

A bitter smile crossed her lips.  "Then just you wait Mr. Todd.  He'll be back.  And, you're revenge will be even more complete."

"Yes, my pet.  How I lived without you, I'll never know."

Her eyes softened as she smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Todd."