"Gillyflowers maybe, 'stead of daisies, I don't know though, what do you think?" Were Mrs. Lovett's words that Mr. Todd still pondered upon from time to time. Trying to figure out their meanings, why flowers had anything to do with his revenge, when in reality the answer was as obvious as the crimson fluid dripping from the end of his razor. Revenge, at first thought to be sweet, lasts for a transient amount of time until it's true colors and taste of bitterness emerge from revenges shadow.
Gillyflowers was not on the list of things that Sweeney Todd could, or chose to, tolerate. Not that his list of tolerations were long anyways…
Flowers reminded him of his Lucy, their clove-scented scent reminded him of his beloved's perfume. Their soft petals reminded him of her delicate skin, which made him recall the times he stayed up for hours upon hours admiring her radiating beauty. Oh, she was beautiful. Flowers were one of the very last things he saw when he saw her. Everything after getting hit on his head by a policeman was a blur. He remembered seeing Lucy, terrifed, clutching Johanna to her tightly as he was dragged away, dragged away from his sanity.
It had been just a few weeks since his revenge was complete. One of Mr. Todd's main problems was the fact that he couldn't forget which led him to taking charge and getting his revenge. But sadly, revenge only made things worse. He no longer spoke, only to answer Mrs. Lovett's simple questions like, "Are you feeling alright, love?" and "Do you need anything from the market?" The Judge was the last man he had ever killed, Toby thankfully didn't go to the law on that fateful night, as a matter of fact Mrs. Lovett nor Mr. Todd had no idea as to where he ran off to, died, or what. Day by day he felt as if he lost another part of himself, as if he was just gradually fading away, the same feeling he had when he was transported to Australia. It was true, revenge was surely beginning to be the death of him, and it was slowly cutting his soul deeper and deeper as the seconds passed.
Mr. Todd still didn't keep his word to marry Mrs. Lovett and live by the seaside. It bothered her, of course, but naturally she didn't say anything. After all, it was as if the man had lost his mind and he could no longer function on his own. She even had a hard time sleeping at night for the fear that the next time she would see him was when she would see him hanging from a noose in his shop.
Mrs. Lovett had told Mr. Todd to wait and to take things slow, think it through, afterall time was so fast that is all you really could do without making any big mistakes you'd regret later. Perhaps he had overlooked what she had said and was too busy thinking of the Judge to even hear or understand what she was talking about. Looking back on it now he felt he had a pretty good idea on what she had meant, and a small part of him wished he had moved on and forgotten about his revenge.
It was an average day on Fleet Street and the fliers and newspapers about Judge Turpin's and Beadle Bamford's disappearance seemed to have made their way around London and was now yesterdays news. Some people believed that him and Johanna ran off and eloped somewhere. Others believed that the Beadle went with them. But the fact of the matter was, Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford were now floating around in the sewers being their true forms, dirty pieces of crap. Literally.
Mrs. Lovett's business had grown slower in the past week ever since she ran out of Turpin and Beadle meat. Not to mention Mr. Todd closed his business. The poor thing just couldn't handle it, being all cooped up in that room of his all day long… Mrs. Lovett pitied him but at the same time she couldn't help but want to scowl at him, she tried to tell him to forget about his revenge and get on with his life but he wouldn't hear of it.
Mr. Todd was simply doing his usual thing, sitting in his barber chair brooding, or in more accurate words, sulking, when Mrs. Lovett came in with his breakfast.
"Brought ya some breakfast Mista T." Mrs. Lovett said happily as she walked in and sat his food on his desk, "I seemed to have lost my appetite for some reason so I gave ya extra." Although she didn't expect him to eat hardly any of it…
She stood in the middle of his shop as he continued ignore her, nervously fumbling with her apron as she did so.
Mrs. Lovett had given up on conversation with him days ago so before turning she looked at his face. He was just staring out of the window and she could see his expression in it. It looked so broken and dead. Mrs. Lovett suddenly had a headache and then decided to head down the stairs.
She didn't know why but she hadn't been feeling well lately. It was now she noticed how warm her forehead was, come to think of it she didn't feel well at all. So without further hesitation she went and lied down.
She awoke hours later, at what appeared to be the evening and automatically felt that her headache had no longer gone away. With frustration Mrs. Lovett cursed at herself and sat up out of bed, when after a few moments of thinking she loosened her tense shoulders and thought there was no difference anyways. After all, she never really had anything to do anyways, nobody ever came in for a pie, and Mr. Todd seemed to have kept to himself nowadays.
The rest of her day went by as she made Mr. Todd his dinner, organized her bookshelf and swept in the parlor. She tried to do as much as she could to get her mind off of her headache which was beginning to make her want to hang herself from a noose.
At around eleven that night Mrs. Lovett sighed, her headache finally had gone but every time she touched her forehead she felt as if she had just stuck her hand into a burning oven. She could only hope that whatever she had would go away in a couple of days, but in the meantime all she could do was, wait.