This came to me when it suddenly started raining while I was on the computer. I went over to the door and stuck my hand out and just sort of stood there for a minute or two just feeling the rain wash over my hand. At the same time, I was listening to Sweeney Todd on my i-pod. So BANG! Fanfiction idea!

Kind of random and short and drabble-ish. It might not even make much sense, but that's probably because I really felt like I got in touch with my inner Sweeney, and, let's face it, he's a little far from what I would call "normal".

I DON'T OWN SWEENEY TODD

EDIT: I realized that I repeated the first line. It's fixed now.

He was wet; sopping actually. And he was cold. He was very very cold. Still, he stood just outside the pie shop on Fleet Street, which was otherwise empty of people. Nobody wanted to be outside in weather like this.

Well…aside from Sweeney Todd, apparently.

The rain was coming down in sheets from the sky darkened by clouds. It soaked into his clothes, making them feel heavy on his lean frame. His hair was plastered to his pale face, covering his closed eyes. Anyone who’d have seen him—standing just outside of a pie shop in the pouring rain, head angled toward the heavens above—would have thought him completely mad.

Of course, he was mad, but that was beside the point.

He figured he must look ridiculous. Though at the moment, he didn’t particularly care all that much. He simply relished the feel of the rain on his skin; the feel of the cold working its way down his very core; the sound of it hitting the cobblestone road at his feet.

Though he was freezing cold, he wasn’t shivering. He loved it, in fact.

So many times before had he forgotten what it felt like to be alive. So many times had he lost his grip of reality. He had felt increasingly often that perhaps he hadn’t been plucked from the ocean by that sailor boy. Perhaps he had drowned and had been sent to the depths of Hell, cursed to slit the throats of innocent victims while feeling no remorse.

If he truly was dead, then avenging his Lucy was a vain attempt at redemption.

That was the reason why he stood there, unmoving, letting the rain wash over his body: the dead didn’t feel.

They didn’t feel the cold or the rain. But he did. So, by his reasoning, he was still here, on this earth, alive. It gave new vigor to fight on for his dear Lucy.

Suddenly, he sneezed. And it made a grin appear on his face.

The dead didn’t catch colds either.

Very short, I know. I was originally planning on having Mrs. Lovett come out and yell at him for standing outside in the rain, because that seems like something she would totally do, but I just couldn't get it to work. Anyway, please review!