Chapter Text
Dr. Flynn came home to an anonymous package delivered to his doorstep.
Holding the grocery bags in one hand, he fished out the house key from his left pants pockets, inserted it into the doors’ keyhole and gave a firm twist, the door clicked open. After he had put the groceries on the nearest counter in the hallway, he went back out to lift up the boxed package. It had some weight, but not at all heavy. A quiet ‘clank’ heard from inside the box as he walked through the doors and closing gently.
Moving the items to the upper level of the house, where he resided, he made two rounds of going up and down the stairs. The first round was for bringing the grocery bags, turning left from the stairs and into the kitchen; the second one was for the mysterious box, placed on the sofa in his living room at the end of the hallway, towards the right hand-side from the stairs and opposite the kitchen’s end. He was curious for the content of the box, which had ‘Fragile’ and ‘Handle with care’ labels stamped all over it, but he’d better taken out and arranged the kitchen items in place first. After he had come back from the kitchen, from the food and daily necessities, he took in his palm a small knife and cut into the clear tape binding the carton packaging.
Uncovering the carton lids revealed him the black matte surface of a stunning gift box, secured as well as garnished by a bow ribbon in bordeaux color, with flashy silver edges. It was tucked neatly in between the bubbles pads to prevent damage.
Dr. Flynn cocked his brows in surprise, he was no stranger from presents and favors, but to receive such expensive-looking one with anonymity would be the first. He gingerly scooped up the gift out of its protection walls, feeling its solid weight and glided his gaze along its length and width. A tiny clank sounded, again, from the inside as he put it down next to his lap on the sofa, he started to have an idea of what this was.
Stripping the ribbon off and lifting the matte lid up, he caught the shine of the bottle nesting gracefully on a bed of velvet lining inside the box. A champagne bottle and a note marked "To John". He picked up and flipped opening the note whose color was also a deep red, reading its content written in gold ink:
“ 24 est le bon numéro.
La clé du chiffre est J”
“The right number is 24. The figure’s key is J” - Dr. Flynn read the message carefully.
“What is this?” - feeling riddled as he set the note down and directed his attention to the wine. The bottle already looked luxurious at first glance. As he observed closely, its intricate label read Jacques Selosse Champagne Millésime Grand Cru Extra Brut 2004.
Which rendered him somewhat stunned.
He swallowed, loud gulping, an acidic taste seemed to form on the tip of his tongue, making him almost salivated. Anticipation. He knew he couldn't wait to open and take a sip of this rare bottle of vintage French champagne.
But, how come such delicacy found its way to him? Dr. Flynn frowned thinking, was someone telling him something?
First, the champagne, usually to represent some sort of celebration. He shuffled through the events happened in his mind, but none of them seemed to deserve such great reward. Perhaps, the answer lay in the message, or riddle.
“24 is the right number. The figure’s key is J…” - he read out the writing again and felt this could be some sort of metaphors directed at him. However, he didn't see how the number was relevant to him, and, what figure? He also couldn't see anything making sense even when he read “chiffre” as “number” or “cipher”.
After all thinkings led to no clue, he started to suspect the box was sent to the wrong address, but then, the note clearly put his name and this champagne was something he was absolutely interested in. Someone who knew about his taste was telling him something.
But who?
‘Dun, dun, dun…’, the ringtone of his vibrating phone cut into his confused mind. He immediately picked up the incoming call the moment he glanced at the name appearing on the screen: V, with an avatar of a woman.
“Hello, V” - greeted Dr. Flynn the person with a soft voice.
“John, how are you doing?” - the voice responded to him was friendly.
“I'm good! You?” - he made his stress and smile audible to the person on the other end.
“Great! Hey, are you free tomorrow, the boys want to see you.” - she went straight to the point.
“Tomorrow? From the afternoon, yes.” - he confirmed his availability with Vera, his ex-wife.
Vera Stevens was his ex-wife, a gay woman whom he had a marriage with for almost six years and got divorced three years ago. They stayed friendly, she remarried a woman, their two sons stayed with her. Callings between them were often, so that he was updated about the boys. Most of the times he visited them, but sometimes the boys liked to come over his place.
Vera was a breathtaking beautiful woman, whose brown skin gave a shiny glow and dark hair as silky as the veil of night falling on earth. She had dark circles under her big and glistening black brown eyes, indicating Indian heritage. She was five years younger than him, he married her when he was thirty.
He was passionately in love with her, which after the revelation of her sexuality, he realized he shouldn't have.
“Great, then I'll bring them over around late afternoon, and a cake. Which cake, or cake flavor, do you think?” - always forward, one of Vera’s best traits.
Dr. Flynn hold his chuckle:
“Shouldn't you know their preferences better than I do?”
Vera countered with an amused giggle:
“Certainly, but I asked since the cake’s for you, although it might vanish into their tummies before you could even take a bite.”
Dr. Flynn set his brows to high:
“For me?”
“Yes, John.” - she confirmed - “Tomorrow is your birthday, remember?”
Dr. Flynn blinked at the information.
“Ah…” - realization dawned on him - “I do know tomorrow is the 24th, but I didn't recall it being my birthday…” - he confessed.
Over the years he didn't really celebrate April the 24th in anyway, or with anyone. Last year, Vera even forgot to wish him happy birthday, probably a sign he had gradually been expunged from her mind. Now, the day seemed just another day for him. Without sentiment, a special day was only a day.
“The boys asked me about their father's birthday around weeks ago, which is actually coming! But I kept myself so busy I forgot to call you right away, sorry.” - she confessed back to him - “Calling you this close, I'm very glad you're good to have them tomorrow. So, which cake would you like?”
Dr. Flynn shrugged:
“Which one do the boys like right now?”
“Well, do you agree to red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting? It's their current obsession.” - Vera offered.
“One of that, then.” - he went along with the cake of choice - “with extra frosting, please.” - he smiled.
Vera laughed warmly:
“You sound just like them! Always ‘more frosting, please!’.” - she paused a moment - “Hold on, it seems my phrasing was wrong, shouldn't it be ‘they sound just like you’.”
It was Dr. Flynn’s throaty laughter then:
“Either way, like father like sons. I'm glad the fierce desire for more pastries frosting is what they inherit from me.” - he claimed proudly.
“OK, OK. Then mark the date, I'll drop them off at your place, you don't have to prepare them anything, I'll pack their toothbrushes, too.”
“Won't you come in, too? And actually, I have all things prepared for them from their previous stays, you needn't pack anything, please.” - he asked after listening carefully to her arrangements.
“Oh, that’s great, and that, uhm, no, sorry. I’d love to but unfortunately, I have things planned in the evening...” - she paused a second before continuing - “with, you know.”
“With your wife” - supplied Dr. Flynn in his mind.
“Oh, I get you. A romantic date night would be easier without the kids.” - he said teasingly - “You can count on me.” - his tone was light and solid.
“Oh my god, John!” - Vera laughed again, happy sounding mixed with embarrassment. Her heartily bits of chokes made his chest ached.
“Close.” - she said - “I appreciate you so much, John, you're always so understanding”.
“Thank you” - she went soft.
He, of course, caught her delighted tone.
“No problem, I’ll see you tomorrow. I asked because I just got this amazing bottle of champagne but no one to share with.”
“Oh? What kind?” - Vera was also a wine enthusiast.
“A vintage Blanc de Blancs. I believe you know about Jacques Selosse’s Millésime line?”
“No shit!” - exclaimed Vera - “You were feeling like spending some money, huh?” - she sounded as if impressed.
“No, I didn't buy it. It came in the mail today. I don't know who sent it, there's no name.” - he retold the excitement - “I don't even know why they sent.”
Vera raised her voice.
“A secret admirer? Coming from you, it's no surprise.” - she teased, paying him back what he did previously.
“Gosh, Vera.” - he chuckled - “I really don't know from whom and why it was sent to me. I live like a hermit, there's no admirer, I guarantee.” - he claimed.
“That's why I said secret, John.” - she pointed out - “You are more charming than you think you are.”
Dr. Flynn’s ears perked up.
“Alright, assuming there's someone interested in me, though very unlikely, sent me the gift, then why did they?”
Suggested Vera with a smirk:
“Don't you see they are giving you a birthday present?”
He was about to oppose to the idea, as literally nobody had been paying attention to his birthday for years, only to be stopped by the line popping into his mind:
“24 est le bon numéro.”
“The right number…”
“24 of April…”
“...The right date."
“...You maybe right.” - Dr. Flynn sighed thoughtfully - “In that case, they should've given it to me normally rather than hiding themselves. I’ll be less confused.” - he admitted to the idea.
“Secret admirer, John. There are so many reasons for one to go anonymous giving presents. I think they might want to gain your favor first, before revealing themselves. You know, so when they approach you, they already had a pleasant surprise for you.” - she proposed another startling thought.
“V, that is so cheesy a thing to suggest to a forty year-old!” - Dr. Flynn didn't hold back his laugh on this one. It came out throaty and amused.
If someone really did that to him, it wouldn't simply be a birthday present anymore. There would be countless implications beneath, might include sexual interests, which Dr. Flynn absolutely didn't want - he really wasn't available for any romance and its complications. He had started to find himself comfortable with solitude and he intended to maintain it.
In the name of mercy, not pointing to that particular direction may this gift be.
“Better find out who that is, John. They seem great, at least, judging from their choice for gift.” - Vera commented - “I gotta run, now, see ya.”
“Sure.” - he replied and she hung up.
He put the phone on the low-table top, took a moment to breathe, he always did when he needed to digest the information. He unfolded the note again. Champagne meant celebration, 24 was going to be tomorrow and his birthday. Someone sent him a birthday present with a coded message.
Whoever the person was, they were thorough. They planned this - the day the present arrived was precisely one day before his birthday - they were giving him time to solve the riddle. They were demanding his attention.
Rather bold and assertive for an anonymous admirer.
Dr. Flynn glided his eyes to the second line of the note, noticing it was formatted differently. Italics usually served as an emphasis, this later half of the riddle should be very important, might even hold an explanation to all this.
“La clé du chiffre est J”
It made much more sense to him then: The key, J, was for John. This line was to explain the direct reason, the for what, or for whom, the message meant. The sender was stressing on the figure this message was dedicated to John, himself, was the key for the existence of this endearing present.
Someone was celebrating his birthday, undoubtedly then. Someone paid appreciation to something had long been regarded insignificant. Dr. Flynn’s peachy lips couldn't help blooming a happy smile. He unconsciously lifted his knuckles up to his mouth to hide his sheepish joy.
This someone deserved at least a thank. Would be fantastic if he could express himself face-to-face with them.
He promised himself later he’d try to find out who the person, even though he had no clue. Was he missing anything? He solved the riddle alright, didn't he?
Anyhow, he needed to make lunch, dried the laundry and prepared for three coming sections with his patients: at 3, 5 and 6 P.M.
Dr. Flynn rose, shoving the note into his breast pocket, gathered the components of the torn packaging for trash and took the champagne bottle into the kitchen with him. The kitchen was adjacent to the dinning room, where a small wine rack attached on the wall, he’d temporarily place the new bottle there. As he nested the bottle onto the wine rack, he pulled the note out from his pocket and tucked it firmly in between the wine and the wooden plank. He gave them another tender smile before turning his feet clad in plush slippers away.
He hummed lightly in his chest. Half a day more til tomorrow, it felt odd to be looking forward to his own birthday again.
The next 24th seemed to going right.
_ To 24, #One Royale Doctor _