The game is a foot!

“Come Watson, hail us a cab, we must be off.”
“Straight away Holmes” I went and hailed us a hansom and as we settled in and I asked
“Where are we going?”
“To the Diogenes Club, I have an urgent summons from my brother.”
It must have been truly a matter of life and death if Mycroft Holmes had bestirred himself and contacted his brother for aid.
We arrived at the club and were ushered into a private dining room where the corpulent capitalist was enjoying a small repast of a steak, potato, and a roast turkey.
“Come in, come in and sit down. I trust you are well” said the rotund raconteur.
“Never mind the pleastries brother” snapped Holmes “Why have you summoned me.”
“Well I am afraid she is back. And she has combined forces with your old enemy Moriarty.”
“No, not she who can not be named.” I shuddered.
“Yes Watson, why did you think I am leaving pursuits of my teaching of art to winsome young lads and dabbling in the perfume trade. I felt I had to warn you. She has already alienated the Red Headed League and destroyed the dreams of the young solicitor who had worshiped her from afar. I can only serve as a warning mechanism. But my poor utterances are dust in the wind. Only you brother can hope to stop her evil reign.”
“I think not Mycroft.” sighed the saddened detective. ”I fear for the world with two such evil masterminds working in concert.”
"Yes brother," huffed the wheezing Mycroft "I believe that fear of she who can not be named will stifle even the very comments of a free people. They live in fear."
"Say it is not so" I said."Is there no hope?"